The Lost Ones
by KoteSkirata
Summary: A collection of the missions that Clint and Erian don't talk about. Ever. A story told in mission snapshots. For all those who asked me to keep going.
1. Alaska

**Hi, everyone. I didn't know how to continue Ghostmaker, because I had no way to tie my ideas down into a coherent plot, so I did this instead. A collection of the missions that Clint and Erian don't talk about. Not with each other. Not with anyone. Ever.**

**There's no particular order to these, although I might include some of the other Avengers later on. These are just my stray ideas that refused to leave me alone.  
**

**As always, leave me a review, because I am a total review addict.  
**

**Enjoy!  
**

**K.S.  
**

No matter what it looked like in the movies, there was absolutely _nothing _romantic about being caught in a snowstorm. Especially when you had one tent between the two of you. Especially when the snowstorm just so happened to be in _Alaska._

And it didn't help that when their plane had gone down, they had ejected safely, only to land in a frozen lake. True, it was just the edge of the lake, so the water was only about five feet deep instead of, oh, say, half a mile deep.

When that happened, you didn't bother to think about how romantic it all was – or, in this case, wasn't. Because all you were thinking about was surviving.

What you _did _was haul your backside out of the lake, haul your partner's backside out of the lake, and pitch the tent. Somewhere in there, you cursed SHIELD for giving you such a small tent. Then you set up your sleeping bags, one inside the other, and you and your partner both stripped down to underwear, because everything else was soaking wet.

By the time Erian and Barton were both inside the sleeping bags, all she could think about was how cold she was. And if her arms were wrapped around his neck and her face was pressed against his shoulder, it was only because she couldn't feel her face. And if his fingers were tangled in her hair, it was only because he was most likely getting frostbite on his fingers and he was using her hair for insulation.

Nothing romantic about it at all.

"How long before they find us? Any guesses?" Erian asked through chattering teeth.

Barton shrugged, rubbing frozen fingers together in her hair. "No idea. We sent up the emergency flare, but in this storm – I wouldn't bet on any kind of help before morning."

She sighed. "I was afraid you'd say that."

Erian felt Barton smile, and he replied, "At least we've got each other."

She picked her head up and gave him an incredulous look. Barton winced. "Yeah, I know, really bad joke. Sorry, my sense of humor has frostbite."

Erian shook her head, mute, and put her head back down on his shoulder. Barton cursed, and moved one of his hands down to her neck. "Erian, you're freezing!"

"What else is new?" she muttered. "I'm smaller than you. Less body mass. I'll get cold faster."

Barton shook his head, rubbing his hands over her arms, trying to generate any kind of warmth. "This isn't good."

Erian laughed. "You haven't thought it through? Wow. Oh, and by the way, let's get it straight that the only reason I'm freezing faster is because I'm physically smaller than you. I'm not a damsel in distress, all right, Clint?"

Barton grinned, and Erian found herself counting the colors in his stormy eyes. "Right, no damsel in distress comments," he promised. She felt his fingers brush her shoulder blade, and he added, "How'd you get this scar, by the way?"

She had to think about it for a minute. "Left shoulder-blade? That one's from Paris. Car crash." Erian brushed her fingers over a thin scar that crossed Barton's collarbone. "What about you? Where did you get this one?"

Barton glanced down at her hand. "The circus. I fell off a support strut and cracked the bone."

Erian winced, but didn't get the chance to reply, because Barton was already asking about the one on her knee, cold fingers against her skin. "That one? Amsterdam. Sniper shot."

Her fingers found a slightly raised scar on his back, and she asked, "This one?"

Barton smiled a little. "Venice. That was fun." Erian raised an eyebrow at him, which he studiously ignored, and she felt his fingertips, cold and gentle against her ribs. "This one?"

Erian shook her head. "Tokyo. Someone neglected to mention that my target had a black belt."

He made a face, and Erian touched the scar on the outside of his knee. "I remember this one," she whispered.

Barton nodded. "So do I. That's from Hellhole, Spain, to use your term."

She grinned. "Yeah, and you were pretty heavy to drag out of there. I thought I told you I _didn't _want to have to carry you."

He shrugged. "You did. Wasn't a lot I could do about it at the time."

Erian decided to change the subject. "Did you find the one on my right leg?"

Barton blinked. "No. Is there a scar on your right leg?"

"Yeah. Here." Erian moved his hand to the outside of her thigh, halfway between the knee and the hip. "That's from Sydney."

He tipped his head to the side. "As in, Australia? Why didn't SHIELD ever send me there?"

Erian gave him a _look._ "It wasn't exactly a vacation," she replied, layering on the sarcasm.

Barton smiled. "Neither is this."

* * *

An hour later, Erian couldn't feel her hands or her feet. She couldn't quite find the energy to move, and settled for shivering. Barton was stroking her hair, holding her close and trying to keep her warm.

It wasn't working.

"Erian?"

She blinked once, and her eyelashes nearly froze together.

"Erian, don't. Stay awake. Look at me."

She wanted to tell Barton that she was _trying _to stay awake, but couldn't make herself speak. She wanted to thank him for trying, wanted to tell him it really didn't matter now, because she knew the signs of hypothermia, and she was done for.

But she couldn't.

Barton took her face in his hands and said softly, "Hey. Erian. Don't drift. Focus. I'm not hauling your corpse out of here."

She wanted to cry. He remembered Spain. He remembered what she'd told him.

Why did she want to cry?

"Erian," Barton whispered, and something snapped inside her.

"I'm here," she gasped, and it _hurt,_ her throat was so cold inside . . .

"Good," he said fiercely, and held her a little tighter. "I'm not letting you go."

* * *

It took another two hours for SHIELD to find them.

The report that the medics gave Fury said that both assassins had been unconscious, but Clint Barton's body temperature was a good eight degrees higher than that of Erian Ross. They both received emergency treatment and would recover fully.

The report also said that if they hadn't stayed together, neither of them would have survived.


	2. London

**Hi, guys. I really don't know how often I'll be updating this, since the ideas show up randomly. I actually had this idea while I was asleep (don't ask). But I will try to keep updating fairly often.**

**DakotaLyon: Thank you. I am, as you noticed, a literary perfectionist, which scares my friends. I appreciate the review very much, and thank you again for your support and encouragement. ;)**

**I might have forgotten to mention this, but I'm still only going to say it once: I don't own Clint Barton. Got it?**

**Enjoy!**

**K.S.**

Erian was in Ghostmaker mode, blacked out, wearing enough knives to fill an armory. Her feet barely brushed the ground, making no noise at all. Her dark eyes were fixed on the back of her target's head, and she watched for any slight shift in position, any hint that she had been detected.

No such hint came, and she crept up to the edge of the roof, staring down at her target on the fire escape below her. Erian smiled, and jumped.

She hit the metal just next to the man she'd been stalking, and picked her head up to grin at him. Barton had almost jumped clear off the fire escape when she landed beside him, and now he glared at her.

"Where did you come from?" he whispered, and Erian's smile grew. She'd been trying to surprise Barton for weeks, and seemed to have finally succeeded.

Erian replied, "Out of the everywhere, into here." Barton tipped his head to the side and raised an eyebrow, and she added, "It's from a kids' rhyme. What have we got?"

Barton turned his gaze back to the apartment building across the street. "Target has stuck to the schedule so far. She should be home any minute."

For some reason, that struck a chord inside Erian's mind. _She._ Erian looked around and pressed her lips together – the set-up was painfully similar to the apartment that she had occupied when Barton was sent to kill her.

"You really could have done it, couldn't you?" she breathed. Erian's gaze was drawn to the lit window across the street, fixing her eyes on the glowing square in the night, as if it were a beacon.

Barton didn't have to look at her, and he didn't have to ask what she meant. He sat beside her on the cold metal of the fire escape, and they stared at the window as he said quietly, "I almost did. Just like this."

Erian couldn't look at him then, even though she wanted to. She didn't want to ask the question, even though she was desperate for the answer. But it didn't feel like she had a choice. Neither of them could look away from the square of electric glow against the darkness, and Erian couldn't keep the wondering inside her.

"What stopped you?"

Barton took a moment before answering, leaning forward to look at something inside the window. Erian trusted his eyes more than her own – for her, there was no world inside the window, just light. For him, there was an apartment, and soon, a target.

Finally, Barton said, "You did." Erian forced herself to turn away from the lit window, blinking as she saw spots in the darkness. She looked at Barton, but even if there weren't square windows of light burned into her vision, she still couldn't have read his face.

He said quietly, "You came home from rehearsal, carrying your shoes. I could tell your feet hurt. You didn't look like an assassin, but it didn't matter. I really was going to kill you. I had the shot . . ." Barton mimed drawing back a bowstring, and Erian felt a horrible sort of chill in her bones. She couldn't look away from him any more than he could look away from the window.

"And you put your headphones on," he said, and Erian blushed. Hard.

"Oh," she said weakly. "I remember that. I didn't know anyone was watching me."

Barton turned his head, smiling at Erian. "You couldn't have," he replied. "It was hilarious."

Erian shook her head, smiling weakly. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been so embarrassed. "I must have looked ridiculous," she muttered, and looked down at her feet, remembering the absolutely absurd dance she had done, de-stressing to her favorite song. It was rather difficult to dance without putting any weight on her sore feet, but Erian had tried. She really had.

"Yeah," Barton confirmed. "I couldn't stop laughing long enough to shoot you, and that made me think about it a little. I've done the same thing, after a long day. Freak-out head-banging and all. Kinda looked like you were having a seizure, but that's not the point."

Erian was very glad that wasn't the point.

"I just thought about it. You were an assassin – you still are. So am I. The only difference is that you were more subtle. It took longer for the big guys to notice you. You didn't have as flashy a skill set, so SHIELD never came knocking at your door with a signup sheet."

"They came knocking with arrows in the night and a paper airplane," Erian said softly.

Barton smiled wryly. "Yeah. Well. I did what I thought was right. I figured, if I got to talk to you, and you were absolutely horrible, I could always just shoot you. Dead people don't care how they died, in my experience. But you weren't horrible. And I didn't want to kill you."

Erian couldn't look at him, but this time, it was because she was afraid of what she might see in Barton's storm-colored gaze. "Well," she said vaguely, "You laid it on a little thick and melodramatic, didn't you?"

Barton shrugged. "I like paper airplanes." He picked his head up to look at the window, and froze. "Got her."

Erian glanced at the window, where the target's silhouette was plain. As Barton snapped open his bow and selected an arrow, Erian whispered, "I like paper airplanes too."

Barton didn't hear her, and that was probably a good thing. Erian did not want to explain what she meant by that.

She didn't even know what she meant by that. Erian quietly turned back to the window, and wondered if the girl in the apartment had any idea what was coming.

_I didn't. But then, how could anyone anticipate Clint? Especially armed with paper airplanes._

Erian smiled, and glanced at her partner. Barton was aiming, and somehow, the sight of that deadly bow drawn back only made her feel safe.

She looked back at the window, and thought of another poem that she'd read, a long time ago when the words didn't mean anything. Erian whispered, "To follow you, I'm not content, until I know which way you went." Her dark eyes glanced at Barton again.

_I don't care which way you go. I'd follow you. _

_I already have._


	3. Chicago

**I had all kinds of trouble with this chapter, so I really, really hope you guys like it.**

**K.S.**

Erian's life would have been much simpler had it not been for a single mud puddle.

She was laughing at something Barton had said, and was simultaneously eyeing their target. Their target, as it happened, had just been subjected to the famous passing-taxi-mud-puddle-splatter, and stopped to contemplate their soaking clothes in disgust.

Erian and Barton were sitting at an outdoor table at a small café, waiting for their target to cross the street and sit down for lunch. It was quite simple, really – they were playing the part of an affectionate couple, who would finish their coffee and get up. On their way out of the café's outdoor seating area, Erian would accidently bump the target's table. Under the cover of her profuse apologies, Barton would put the poison in the target's drink.

Simple. Right?

Erian smiled at Barton, making a sweet reply to whatever it was he had said – she was conversing on autopilot, eyes scanning her surroundings. For some unknown reason, she had a bad feeling about this mission. Erian could see their target, brushing mud off of his jacket. He would cross the street any moment now. What was bothering her?

Erian glanced over Barton's shoulder, looking at the reflections of passersby in the café window, and stopped breathing. Walking along the sidewalk, _directly towards them_, was one of Erian's former employers. He'd hired her out for a dozen contract hits, all accomplished, but the point was that he knew her face.

And she knew how he would react to seeing the Ghostmaker chatting in a café. He would assume Barton was one of her marks, and he would walk on by, doubling back to watch Erian take out Barton . . . and watch the two of them take out their target.

Not a good thing.

Erian glanced at the target, who was starting across the street, glanced back at the man in the grey coat who was walking towards her, and finally looked at Barton.

_Oh, shit._

She'd been smiling this whole time, maybe even continuing to talk nonsense, making it up as she went. That's what they did undercover – play the part and talk the talk. Well, Erian was really going to have to play the part now.

Erian leaned forward and gently kissed Clint, right on the lips.

He was warm, really warm. Erian closed her eyes because she didn't want to see the look on her partner's face, assuming she could have gotten her eyes to focus on something that close, anyway.

The last thing she expected was for Barton to kiss her back. So, of course, he did.

Erian forgot to breathe as Barton's hand cradled the back of her head and drew her closer. He tasted like the coffee he'd been drinking, all chocolate and caramel and warmth.

She panicked, and pulled back. Barton let her go, and Erian looked away, unable to meet his eyes. She didn't know how she was going to explain herself. But at least the man who could have recognized her as the Ghostmaker had passed by. And their target was sitting down at a nearby table.

Barton said, in exactly the same tone of voice he'd been using before she kissed him, "What was that about?"

Erian took a breath. _Focus. Mission. Deal with freaking out later. _"Potential compromise," she said brightly, leaning forward as if discussing a movie or a book. "Former employer. He could have recognized me."

"Ah," Barton said pleasantly. "All right, then." He reached out a hand and gently brushed the backs of his fingers along the line of Erian's jaw. She smiled at the affectionate gesture, so very in character with the roles they were playing – but so very much more.

Erian had to remind herself to breathe. She glanced into the café window, watching the reflection of their target order a drink. "Nearly there," Erian said sweetly. "Any time now."

"I can't wait," Barton replied, smiling that brilliant smile at her. Erian glanced away, suddenly unable to meet his eyes, and felt something shatter inside her. She felt like crying, and wasn't sure why.

Well, she knew what had caused the urge to cry – she just wasn't sure why she felt that way. _It'll have to wait. Do the job. _

Erian eyed their target, and as his drink was set down in front of him, she told Barton, "Time to pay the waiter, I think."

He flagged down their server and paid for their coffee, and Erian stood, shrugging into her jacket and chattering away mindlessly. She had no idea what was coming out of her mouth – Erian was in Ghostmaker mode, focused only on their oblivious target. She waited for Barton to be ready, and then sauntered towards their target, still talking.

It wasn't hard for Erian to _accidently _bump into the table, knocking the target's coat off his chair without spilling the drink that sat on the table's surface. "Oh!" Erian put a hand to her mouth. "Oh, I'm _so _sorry! I'm just so clumsy, I swear, I'm so sorry . . ." She bent down to 'help' pick up the coat, while really only getting in the way.

The target gave her a somewhat confused look, and said, "That's quite all right. No harm done."

Erian smiled at him, and Barton put his hand on her arm, letting her know that they were done. "Oh, thank you. I am sorry, really. Have a nice day!"

They walked away, arm in arm, two of the world's most deadly assassins, strolling down a sidewalk and chatting. Erian couldn't help remembering what their target had said to her – _no harm done._

_Oh, if only you knew._


	4. Canada

**Hey everyone! Sorry this took so long to update, but I've been on vacation. Skiing, actually, which is reflected in this rather long chapter. I will be updating more frequently from now on.**

**Enjoy!**

**K.S.**

Canada

Erian smiled as she felt the chill of the wind against her face. It wasn't often that she let herself smile, these days, and even rarer was this kind of smile – a real smile, that held a little piece of her heart. But she could smile now, because the only other person on this untamed mountain was her partner.

And speaking of her partner –

The radio bud in her ear crackled with static, and Clint asked, "You coming?" Erian could see him, farther down the slope, a black figure against the white snow, waiting for her.

"Of course I'm coming," she replied, and pulled up her facemask, tucking the edge under her goggles. "This is the fun part."

Clint answered as she pulled her poles out of the snow and kicked off the top of the ridge, skiing down to meet him. "Really? And here I thought that was disabling the communications array up at the top. Or maybe it was jumping out of the helicopter and having to dig myself out of snow up that was up to my ribs."

Erian moved to the rhythm of the mountain, loving the feel of the ground flying past her. It had been much too long since the last time she'd done this. "Quit complaining, rookie. I've done much worse heliski jumps than that just to get warmed up. And as for the communications array, it was just equipment. Now it's just _useless_ equipment."

She pulled up next to Clint, braking with a hard twist of her ski tails and spraying him with snow. "Race you," Erian challenged, grinning.

Clint wiped snow off his goggles and made a face at her, forgetting that his facemask obscured most of the expression. Erian laughed. It had been just over a week since the . . . _incident _. . . in Chicago, and to her relief, Clint hadn't mentioned it. She had been delighted to learn that they would be skiing down from the top, where they had recently, creatively, disabled a communications array that Fury had taken a disliking to.

Privately, Erian suspected that this mission was meant as a working vacation for her and Clint. She appreciated the gesture – they had a whole mountain to themselves, and a huge number of square feet of fresh champagne powder.

Clint shook snow off his coat and pointed out, "You do remember that I only learned how to do this three days ago, right?"

Erian grinned wickedly. "Oh, I remember. It was quite entertaining." She gently prodded him with the end of her pole. "Are you forfeiting, then?"

"Hardly. Just try to keep up!" Clint took off like one of his own arrows, and Erian laughed as she launched after him, kicking off the hill and going into full flight.

Despite being something of a natural, Clint really only had been skiing for three days, and Erian passed him easily, hitting him with a wave of flying snow. She couldn't seem to stop smiling as the wind ripped past her, whistling against her helmet. Erian didn't have to think about skiing – it just happened, each turn and twist and jump as easy and natural as breathing.

A scattered puff of snow floated past her head, and Erian frowned. She'd been skiing since before she could walk, and was familiar with reading the movements of the snow to tell her what was happening behind her. Floating snow meant that either Clint was about to pass her, or –

Erian slowed, and turned sharply uphill to stop, dark eyes searching up the slope for her partner. She saw a fading cloud of snow, and a dark figure lying on the steep slope, one ski several feet away. He started to move, then stopped and went still.

She reached for her radio. "Clint? Are you all right?" Erian lifted her poles free of the deep powder and was already hiking sideways up the slope when he replied.

"I'm not sure. I think I did some kind of cartwheel. Must have got my ski tips crossed somehow."

Erian's mouth tightened and she said nothing, climbing a little faster.

It didn't take her long to reach Clint, who was lying on his back. He'd pushed his goggles up and his facemask down, and Erian didn't like the color his face was turning. They locked eyes as she turned her skis to crouch next to him, and Clint spoke without her having to ask.

"Collarbone, left side. I think I cracked it pretty good."

"You're sure?"

He grinned. "Yeah. I've done it before, on the other side. You've even seen the scar."

Erian silently brushed her fingers against the place on her collarbone that matched the place on his where she'd asked about the scar – all that time ago, in Alaska.

Not too far from where they were at the moment, actually.

"All right," Erian said steadily. "You're going to have to ski down anyway, because that's the only thing we can do. I'll take your poles. You know what to do?"

"Yeah. Support my left arm with my right, keep the pressure off the break – I've heard it all before." Clint rolled his eyes at her.

Erian smiled a little and replied, Save it for when you're on your feet. That will be the fun part."

Clint made another face at her, and she helped him sit up. He muttered something that Erian didn't quite catch, and then added, "Remind me to get in mor practice hours next time we have a job like this."

Erian said nothing. She wrapped an arm around his ribs and felt Clint brace against her. "Easy," she breathed, and stood up.

Clint made a sort of choking noise, and staggered a litte. She couldn't blame him – Erian had never broken her collarbone, but even under the best of circumstances, standing on one ski in heavy powder was not an easy balancing trick.

"I've got you," she whispered, and felt Clint lean against her with a sigh. "I've got you.

"Good thing," he said shakily. "Where did my other ski go?

Erian smiled a little. "I'll go get it." She made sure he was balanced steady before retrieving Clint's ski and helping him kick his boot into the binding.

She followed him down the slope, making long, looping turns, with two poles in each hand. Clint wobbled a bit at first, but soon got his feet under him again, cradling his left arm in his right to keep pressure off his collarbone.

His voice in her ear made her pause. "Look, Erian," Clint said quietly. "I know you need a break. I also know you're not going to like what I'm about to say, but don't argue with me. I'm going on down to the pickup point. If you give me about five minutes to get out of your way, you can just fly on down like I know you want to."

Erian blinked. "Clint, I –"

"Hey!" he said fiercely. "No arguing, remember? I'm going first because I know you won't go ahead of me. Yeah, I'm not very good at this. But if I take it slow, I'll be fine, and then you can just get it all out of your system."

Erian shook her head slowly, not so much a refusal as an acknowledgement. "Get what out of my system?"

Clint sounded amused. "Don't you give me that, Ghostmaker. I know you too well. You've been going crazy for about a week now. You haven't been sleeping. You've been drinking twice as much tea as you normally do. You've been pacing up and down the hallway outside my door, and don't think I can't hear you walking there in the middle of the night. This is good for you, somehow. Before I crashed, you were happier and more relaxed then I've seen you in a long, long time. Now I'm going on down. I'll tell you when I'm at the bottom."

Erian looked down the slope to where Clint stood looking back at her, a blank figure in a mask, and wondered why her goggles had suddenly fogged up. "Thank you, Clint," she said softly.

"No problem. I'll just get out of your way now. Give me five minutes to clear the hill for you."

Erian pushed her goggles up and wiped the moisture out of them, watching her partner wobble away down the mountain. She had to blink rapidly to keep her vision clear, and vaguely wondered why her eyes were watering when the wind was blowing from behind her.

It was closer to ten minutes before Clint said, "All clear. Go ahead."

Erian adjusted her grip on the double set of poles in her hands, replied, "I'll be right there," and kicked forward.

It really was like flying, she decided as the wind of her own speed ripped past her. Erian couldn't see it, but she knew from experience that she was leaving a trail of flying snow behind her as she whipped down the slope, keeping her turns tight and even. She breathed to the rythem of the mountain, rocking from edge to edge on her skis.

_Finally!_

She hadn't been conciously _missing_ skiing – but it felt like coming home. Like opening her eyes. Like breathing for the first time.

Erian felt her heartbeat race with the wind, and realized she was grinning as if she were ten years old again and had just taken her first jump. No time for jumps today, she was moving too fast, but she didn't mind. The speed itself was enough, pure exhileration pumping through her veins.

She could see Clint now, down below her, waiting next to the helicopter. And for once, she didn't feel the need to put on her armor because they were no longer alone.

Erian pulled up next to Clint, once again spraying him with snow as she braked with the edges of her ski tails. She pushed her goggles up and pulled her mask down to grin at him. She opened her mouth to speak, and closed it again, beginning to frown a little in puzzlement.

Clint had a look on her face that Erian was sure she'd seen somewhere before, but she couldn't remember when or where. His eyes were wide, and his usual, unreadable expression was nowhere to be found.

There was something in those stormy eyes that made Erian's breathing quicken, and she felt her heartbeat kick up another notch.

"Wow," Clint said softly, and Erian silently agree with him, reaching up to tuck away a stray lock of her dark hair that had escaped the confines of her helmet.

"Hey!" the helicopter pilot yelled from inside the door. "We haven't got all day!"

Erian blinked, and Clint grinned. She put both their sets of poles in the helicopter and helped him into a seat, fussing over the harness so she wouldn't have to meet his eyes. Erian stashed their skis between two seats and settled in next to Clint, turning to look out the window at the falling snow.

"Hey," he said quietly, and she tilted her head to let him know she was listening.

"Did it help?" Clint asked, and Erian nodded, staring at her reflection in the window. She snowflakes on her hair, nose, and eyeslashes. Her cheeks were pink, and there were goggle lines under her eyes. Her eyes – which seemed too bright to her, brimming with a secret she couldn't dare to acknowledge.

_Why so guilty, Erian? What have you got to hide?_

_ And what have you got to fear? He's your partner. He knows you better than anyone else. There's really nothing you can't tell him._

"Yeah," Erian turned back around to face her partner, and picked up his hand in hers. "It helped."

"I'm glad," he said, storm-colored eyes steady with hers.

"So am I," she said, and Erian looked straight back into Clint's gaze with a smile. "So am I."


	5. Los Angeles

**Hi, everyone. I had a hard time with this chapter - I wanted to get it exactly right, since it's been a bit of a rocky road to get here. Anyway, I really hope you like it! Be sure to leave a review.**

**Speaking of reviews, DakotaLyon rocks for leaving me so many. ;D**

**Enjoy!**

**K.S.**

Los Angeles

Erian was puzzled. Something was wrong. And Clint was what was wrong.

It was bothering her. It was subtle, true, but for some time now, he'd been acting differently. Not a lot different, just a little. In the way he moved, the way he looked at her.

Clint seemed to be . . . more physical. That sounded wrong in her head, but it was the only way Erian could put it. He was sitting next to her on the roof of a downtown hotel. They were safe from the eyes of bystanders, hidden behind a glowing sign.

He reached across Erian to pick up a bottle of water, and Clint's arm brushed against her ribs. She tensed, and then forced herself to relax.

That was it. Right there. Clint kept 'accidently' coming into contact with her. Just one incidental, perfectly non-offensive touch after another.

Erian didn't get it. It was making her crazy, trying to second-guess her partner.

_I shouldn't have to try. I should just ask him. I should be able to just ask him._

_ And I could, easily – if it were anything else. But I'm afraid I know what this is about, and I'm scared._

_ Scared. Since when does that happen?_

Clint tipped his head from one side to the other, stretching the muscles in his neck, and Erian caught herself studying the play of the lights across his features. She looked away, down into the brilliant neon mayhem of the City of Angels. Almost as soon as she did, Erian felt his gaze settle on her, and she internally cringed.

_Why am I scared of him? He's the only person I trust. The person I tell everything._

_ Why can't I tell him this?_

Erian stretched, cat-like, feeling tense muscles ease as she rubbed her hands up and down her arms. She tipped her head back to look up at the stars, but they were lost to her sight, hidden by a wash of city lights.

_I'm going insane thinking about this. What is this, anyway? He's my partner. He's off-limits. But he's the only person who would ever understand._

Clint picked up a pair of binoculars, looked through them for a few moments, and set them down again. Erian stood up and began to pace the rooftop, her shadow stretching away off the roof and into the night. She wanted to run her hands through her hair and scream and shout.

But she didn't.

His eyes were following Erian, and she ignored him as best she could, but that wasn't very well. She remembered looking at her reflection in Canada, and remembered the shine in her eyes. Erian knew that shine. It was the tell-tale sign of a secret.

He should have said something by now. She kept waiting for the sound of his voice, but it didn't come. Erian stalked across the rooftop, glaring out at the city. She shook her head, hard, making the end of her braid dance across her shoulders.

_Damnit._

Erian returned to her position next to him, and sat abruptly, more of a controlled collapse, really. She pulled up one foot and let it sit flat against the side of the building, her other leg dangling. Erian folded her hands over her kneecap and rested her chin on her fingers, staring blankly into the darkness.

Clint was using the binoculars again, studying a window on the other side of the street. He said, "We both know the target's not coming."

"Yeah." Erian could read between the lines. _He's not coming, so what are we still doing here? Why don't you just call SHIELD to come get us? _

_ What's wrong?_

But she could read deeper than that, too.

_He wants me to come to him. For me to make the first move. Which is why he keeps –_

Clint leaned across behind her to set the binoculars down, his arm brushing across her back.

_ Doing that!_

_ Damnit, Clint!_

Erian punched the neon sign that she was sitting next to. Clint blinked once, and didn't react. "Anger issues?" he asked, and there was no trace of his usual humor in his voice.

She glared at him, not moving. "Obviously."

Clint tipped his head to the side, settling into a more comfortable position. "What's bothering you?"

_So you're going on the offensive, are you? Very well._ "You are."

He raised an eyebrow. Erian felt like moaning aloud, or possibly throwing herself off the building. Instead, she let the anger come, building up inside her, building the words and letting them burn out of her throat.

"What's been going on with you, Clint? You've been acting strange since you broke your collarbone. And don't try to duck the question." For an angry outburst, it wasn't much – but then, it was a controlled angry outburst. Erian didn't lose control. Not anymore. She knew too much about what happened when you lost control.

Clint said, "I haven't noticed anything," and stood, linking his fingers and stretching his arms over his head.

Erian scrambled upright, furious. "I said _don't _try to duck the question, Barton! Answer me! What is your problem?"

His eyes darkened, the false dusk of a raging thunderstorm. When he spoke, his voice was low and deep, and Erian took a small step backwards, toward the brilliant blaze of the neon sign.

"It's not me that has the problem, is it, Erian?"

Before she could get past the burst of white panic, Clint backed her against the sign and put his hands up against the back of the neon advertisement, trapping her. Erian looked into his eyes and forgot to breath.

Softly, Clint said, "Don't run. Don't hide. Just tell me."

Erian silently counted the colors in his eyes, and noticed that he wasn't blinking. She couldn't bring herself to move – she certainly couldn't think of any words to speak. Erian felt as though she were watching herself from a distance, drifting along in a miasma of dizzy emotions so thick that she couldn't think.

Clint closed those perfect eyes and sighed softly. He opened his eyes again, leaned forward, and gently kissed her.

Erian wasn't drifting anymore. Every instant was sharp and clear, and warm and wonderful. She wrapped her arms around his neck, felt his hand at her back pulling her into him, felt his other hand on the back of her neck.

And for the first time in a long time, Erian felt like she was at home.


	6. Liverpool

**Hello, everyone! This chapter is long. And I mean ****_long._**** So I hope you like it.**

**DakotaLyon, you rock. You really do. Just don't have too many heart attacks, because I read somewhere that those are bad for you. ;)**

**Enjoy!**

**K.S.**

Liverpool

_Blood, blood everywhere, everywhere but on her. Blood on the knife, blood on the ground, blood on – blood on –_

_ Clint?_

_Erian screamed._

"Erian!"

She opened her eyes with a gasp, staring into Clint's worried gaze. Erian's breath came hard, and she slowly became aware of the fact that her entire body was shaking. "Clint?" she whispered.

He smiled a little, a worried smile. Erian knew that look too well. Clint gently brushed her sweat-damp hair out of her face, and said softly, "It was just a dream. It's over."

She nodded a little too quickly. "Yeah," Erian said, and looked away. "Just a dream."

Her gaze drifted over the shabby hotel room, and she closed her eyes for a moment, seeing the after-image of Clint's dead body imprinted on her vision.

"Just a dream," she whispered.

He was watching her, sitting up in the bed they were sharing, his hair sticking up in all directions. Clint's eyes were soft and dark, fresh from sleep. She wished she hadn't woken him – Erian knew too well that he didn't get enough sleep without her waking him up.

Clint saw her looking and reached out, gently cradling her head in his hand and leaning close. "Hey," he said softly. "It's ok."

As if to prove it, he kissed her gently, and Erian melted inside. She leaned into him, let him stroke her hair. She closed her eyes –

And saw him dead with her knife in his chest.

Erian pulled back with a jerk, wide-eyed with panic. It had only been a dream, she knew that. She knew that.

And yet –

Clint was looking at her with worry written in his face, and there was hurt there, too, hidden behind his eyes. Erian couldn't look at him. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "It's not your fault." She wanted to add, _Thank you for trying, _but the words wouldn't come out.

Erian swung her legs off the side of the bed, and looked back at him. She smiled a little, and said, "I'm ok. I'm just going to – going to burn off some energy."

It was a lie, of course. She was anything other than fine. Horrible. Terrible. Awful. Anything other than fine.

But the person who could have, should have saved her was the person she couldn't face.

It wasn't his fault, of course it wasn't, he was trying, trying so hard – but Erian couldn't stand to look at those sad, beautiful eyes and see him lifeless in her head. She couldn't do it. She had to go, to get away, to breathe somewhere that the strangling red nightmares could not follow.

Clint didn't have to remind her not to be seen – they had both been doing this too long to forget that now. But he did call after her, "Erian? Take your radio."

Erian turned back to face him, standing by the window with the curtains blowing in around her. She smiled, a real smile, as she knotted a hooded sweatshirt around her waist, fingertips brushing the knives she carried even when she slept, tucked into the elastic of her sweats.

"I'll call you if I get in trouble," she promised, and didn't stop to wonder if she meant it.

Erian didn't have a particular opinion of England. It was too refined for her to dislike it, and too rainy for her to like it. So she left it alone, unless otherwise ordered. Liverpool was caught in a drizzle that night, and Erian was drenched within seconds of climbing out the window and onto the roof of the neighboring building.

_It was raining in the dream._

She shook her head to dispel the thought, and ran lightly along the rooftop, jumping over the street to cling to the fire escape of the next building in line. Erian wasn't normally a rooftop kind of person – she didn't particularly care for heights, though she wasn't afraid of them. But tonight she needed air. Erian needed to breathe, to escape the cloying warmth of the hotel room she shared with her partner.

To escape the choking fog of her nightmares and run in the cold night and get soaked to the bone, if that's what it took to wash the dreams away. They had been getting worse lately. Erian didn't dream about Kirbee anymore – she was no longer obsessed with the accidental death of her best friend, at her own hands.

Now she dreamed about Clint. These dreams were worse. Erian lived it all again, the dark night, the falling rain, the knife – but it wasn't Kirbee. It was Clint who died in the field behind the alley, Clint whose body she left, Clint whose blood stained her hands, dark, dripping, forever red.

Erian missed a step and tripped headlong onto the roof. She caught herself, barely, and stared down at the dark street. If she'd been another step closer to the edge, she would have gone over.

_Breathe, Erian. Just breathe._

But her breath left clouds of fog in the wet air, traces of her presence in the night, and she didn't want to stop moving. Erian hauled herself upright and kept going, running where she could, jumping when she couldn't trust her footing. She needed to burn this horror out of her, destroy it in the heat of her racing blood.

It was working, but very, very slowly. Erian ran until her legs were shaking and she was out of rooftops. When she looked down, she found herself overlooking one of the small squares of shops in the center of the city.

_How did I get here?_

Erian shook her head, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The streetlights still burned down below, but up on the roof it was dark, and wet, and cold. She sank down onto her knees, slipping a knife out of the jacket tied around her waist. Erian spun the small blade across her palm, flicking the handle with a fingertip, letting the repetitive motion calm her ragged nerves as her breathing eased.

Eventually, she put the knife away and laid down on the wet rooftop, staring up at the grey clouds and the pale streaks of the falling rain. Erian had to blink constantly to keep water out of her eyes, and wondered, _What is it with me and rain? It follows me around._

_ Just like the airplanes do._

As if on cue, Erian spotted the dim red flash of a passing plane overhead, far away and hard to see through the rain. She closed her eyes and let the falling water drum a pattern on her body.

Erian hummed to herself, a nonsense tune of random notes, to make a melody with the storm's drums on her skin. _What am I doing? Why am I out here? I'm going to catch pneumonia. I'm going to jeopardize the mission._

_ Oh. That's why I'm out here._

_ I'm tired of putting the mission first._

_ Why can't it be me, and not the mission, that I think of first?_

Erian opened her eyes, and felt a small bloom of heat blossom inside her.

_I don't think of myself first – or the mission._

_ I think of Clint._

_ And speaking of Clint, he's probably worried about me still. I did leave – awkwardly. He didn't deserve that. He was only being kind._

Erian winced at the thought, picturing her partner pacing the tiny room. _All right. I'll call in._

_ I have to. I have no idea how to get back to the hotel from here._

"Clint?"

His voice came back to her at once, sounding relieved. "Erian. Where are you?"

She sat up, groaning a little as she felt the amount of water that had soaked into her clothes. "I'm not sure. Somewhere above that little square where we had lunch today."

"All right. I'm bringing the car. You're drenched, aren't you?"

Erian smiled. "Yeah. And it seems I forgot to put anything on my feet, so could you bring some socks?"

He laughed, and Erian's warmth grew stronger. "Sure. I'll be right there."

* * *

The next night, Erian was crouching on another rooftop, in a completely different part of the city. Clint was across the street, kneeling and about to snap open his bow. He muttered something that Erian didn't quite hear, and she asked, "What was that?"

Clint looked up in surprise, and then grinned as he remembered their radios were on. "I said I hate time-specific missions. Why does it matter when exactly we kill this guy?"

Erian smiled. "You never would have made it in the free-lance world. A couple of times I had to make sure that I not only killed the target at the right time, but also make sure that someone else was watching from exactly the right place. It was maddening."

He shook his head, and Erian glanced down into the square, dark eyes easily finding their target, who was still sitting by the trees, alone in the otherwise deserted square. Still reading under the streetlight, down near the pavement that still glistened from the last night's storm. _Who reads in the dark, anyway?_

Clint said, "How in the world did you manage all that by yourself?"

Erian shrugged. "I didn't always work by myself. Sometimes I hired someone else to help me. Sometimes I'd get hired by another assassin. It was just business. Horrible, but just business."

She felt his gaze, and turned to see Clint watching her steadily. He didn't say anything for a moment, and then finally replied, "I always forget that there are others out there."

Erian raised an eyebrow at him, trusting his sharp eyes to pick up the expression. Clint smiled, and added, "But then, I forget everything when I look at you."

She looked down, feeling a slow blush spread across her cheeks. "Barton," Erian breathed, "Are we fraternizing?"

"Oh, no," Clint said easily, "That comes later."

Erian spluttered with laughter, and he turned back to the target, checking his watch. "Almost time," Clint reported, and she shook her head with a smile.

They waited in silence for another minute, and then Clint said, "Commencing." His voice was distant, as if his mind was somewhere else entirely, and Erian recognized his mission focus. Every part of Clint was concentrating on the shot.

"Taking position," Erian replied, and swung off the corner of the roof, grabbing the ladder that she had bolted to the wall the night they arrived. She let her grip loosen on the sides, and slid down, occasionally putting her foot flat on the wall to slow herself. _I'm glad I decided to wear gloves. This would be murder on my hands._

Erian's feet touched the ground as Clint said, "The shot's good. I have him. Target down. No others in the area. Wait – what? There's another one. Two more. No, three. Where are they all coming from?"

_Brilliant. How did an assassination turn into a running battle?_ Erian drew a pair of knives in each hand, holding them lightly between her fingers. With this grip, she could throw two knives and not have to draw more to fight hand-to-hand.

She never got the chance.

A line of white fire blazed through Erian's left thigh, and she gasped, shifting her weight to her right foot as her left leg tried to give out. She twisted around to search the alley behind her, and in the same motion flung a knife.

The blade buried itself between the eyes of the sniper who was crouched on the fire escape of the building at the end of the alley, a good two blocks away. Erian glanced down at her leg, which was rapidly staining red, and said roughly, "Hawkeye, we've been set up. Again. I've been shot in the left leg. The sniper's down. The guys in the square are all yours. Have fun."

In the background of his reply, she could hear the familiar thrumming sound of Clint's bowstring being drawn and released rapidly. "You all right?"

Erian hadn't taken a good look at the wound – she was scanning her surroundings, wary of a second sniper. _That's how I would do it. Two for me and two for Clint._

A thrill of fear ran through her for the first time. _Clint. _

"Watch for snipers," was all she said. Erian didn't bother to address his question. _I'll be fine. _What mattered to her was that _he _came out all right. She did keep looking around her, but could find no sign of a second sniper.

"Erian." She heard his bow again, and then a moment of silence. Abruptly, Clint dropped to the ground in front of her. Erian nearly knifed him, but caught herself before truly beginning to move.

_"Are you all right?"_

Clint's eyes were dark again; dark and cold and _angry, _and even though she knew he wasn't angry at her, Erian shivered. "I'm fine," she replied. "I just might not be waltzing for a while. I take it you got the other guys sorted out?"

"You have to ask? Let me see that."

He slung his bow over one shoulder and crouched down to examine Erian's blood-soaked leg. It had progressed to an acute throbbing now, with intermittent bursts of screaming flame. And now that she had to think about it, it seemed to hurt a thousand times worse.

Erian leaned back against the alley wall to take some of the weight off of her leg, and closed her eyes. She didn't have to worry now. Clint was with her, and would never let anyone harm her. Erian knew that. Knew it like she knew the sun would rise the next morning. Knew it like she knew the stars were never just burning balls of gas. Knew it like she knew there was a man in the moon even when she couldn't see him. Knew it like she knew that she –

_Don't go there. Not now. This is not the time to analyze your feelings for your partner._

Clint stood up and Erian found herself staring into his eyes, promptly mesmerized by the colors she found there. And he was smiling, a relieved, it's-going-to-be-ok-now kind of smile. "It's not serious," Clint said in a rush. "Missed the major nerves and blood vessels. It'll be fine by the time SHIELD gets done with you." He hesitated for a moment, then put his hands up on the wall on either side of Erian's head and kissed her. A lot.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and let Clint take her weight off her bad leg. He tasted like chocolate, and Erian made a small sound of pleasure, feeling him pull her into him.

Eventually, she had to pull back, regretfully, and saw that regret mirrored in Clint's gaze. Erian smiled. "Mmm. Where have you been hiding the chocolates, Clint? But, as nice as this is, I'm bleeding all over both of us, in case you forgot. And do I hear sirens?"

He shook his head. "I didn't forget. And I hear them too." Clint carefully unwrapped his arms from around Erian's shoulders, and crouched down again to work on her leg. He ripped one of the sleeves off his cheap hooded jacket, purchased only a few days ago in the very square where their target now lay dead, and wrapped the fabric tightly around Erian's bleeding leg, setting the knot over the bullet's entry point to keep pressure on it.

She watched in silence, and closed her eyes when Clint tied the knot, gritting her teeth against the spike of blue-white agony that shot through her thigh and made her bones ache. The sirens were closer, and Erian imagined the wailing sounds sharing a rhythm with the stabbing pains in her leg.

Clint said urgently, "Is your roof clean?" She nodded, knowing what he meant. _Did you leave anything behind that could show we were here?_

"Clean," Erian confirmed, and opened her eyes just in time to see the world spin as Clint scooped her into his arms and broke into a run.

"Hey!"

"Hush," Clint replied, but not unkindly. "We both know you can barely stand, much less run. And we have to be out of here before the cops show up."

Erian sighed. "I know. And I know it's practical, because we're just going straight to the pickup point. I'll just never get used to this." Simply put, she didn't really like being carried. Erian was not a damsel in distress, or any kind of fairytale princess. She disliked the feeling of needing to be rescued.

_But if it's absolutely necessary – well, I can't complain about my rescuer._

Clint asked quietly, "Are you sure you're all right?"

She rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of his skin. It reminded her of salt and sunshine and laughter.

"Yeah," Erian said, "I'm fine."

And she meant it.


	7. Seattle

**Hey, guys. This chapter is a bit of a time-jump forward from the last one - this chapter is set during the Avengers movie. I skipped the Iron Man movies because, to be honest, I haven't seen them! EEK! So I did this instead. I hope you like it.**

**Enjoy!**

**K.S.**

Seattle

It was, of course, raining. Erian didn't mind. She was indoors at the moment, and was in the process of silently thanking Clint for making her get a uniform.

It wasn't a typical SHIELD uniform – Erian was attired in a fog-grey bodysuit, covered by plates of a new kind of body armor, which were painted black. The SHIELD emblem was silver on her shoulder and her knife belts criss-crossed her body.

Erian deflected another bullet with the armor plates on her forearm, and said another mental thank-you to Clint. After she had been shot in Liverpool, he had insisted that she have some kind of protection in the field. He'd made sure she had her uniform before he'd gone on the New Mexico mission. And Erian appreciated it now.

She ducked behind a metal beam, and silently stabbed a gun-toting man without bothering to look at him. Erian was more concerned with the other gun-toting men - all six of them, pursuing her.

_Where's Clint when I need him?_

Erian knew exactly where he was, of course. Clint was guarding the Tesseract, on Fury's orders. Neither of them had liked working individually after being together so long, but orders were orders.

And Erian would always remember that Fury had once wanted her dead. She wasn't going to challenge him on this one.

So here she was. Alone. Wishing she had Clint with her to take out a few of the idiots chasing her. Because Erian had a very, very specific mission – to find a certain computer disk that she knew for sure was in the office on the other side of the metal beam behind which she was sheltering. But in order to reach that office, Erian had to get around a wall of shipping crates, dodge the six men with guns, and somehow force open the locked office door. Ordinarily, she could have picked that lock blindfolded with one of her smaller knives.

Unfortunately, she couldn't afford to stand still that long. The plates of body armor helped, but they were only plates, and had gaps where a bullet could easily penetrate Erian's grey bodysuit.

_I'm an assassin, not a walking tank._

Erian waited until she heard the click of an empty magazine from the other side of the wall of crates, and then moved. While one empty magazine would not prevent the other men from shooting at her with wild abandon, at least she only had to worry about five sources of fire instead of six.

_I could really use you here, Clint._

Erian climbed the crates in quick, steady movements. When she was almost to the top, she shoved the top three rows of crates down on top of her attackers, and swung herself up on to the new top row. Erian sprinted along the crates, knowing she was making an excellent target of herself, knowing she had a few more precious seconds before the men could shift the crates far enough to aim at her.

She used those seconds well, gaining momentum as she ran. Erian could see exactly what she needed just ahead of her – a metal bar that ran parallel to the crates, parallel to the door in the wall. She knew she would be exposed if she tried it, but –

But without her partner, Erian wasn't sure what else to do.

So she jumped. The momentum from her mad dash along the crates propelled her, and Erian seized hold of the bar, snapping her body around in a circle, her booted feet gathering speed with every passing instant until they slammed into the office door.

The door had done admirable service during its lifetime, but could not be expected to hold up to the kind of kick Erian had just given it. The cheap wood splintered off its hinges, and Erian released the bar and made a clean landing just inside the now unobstructed doorway.

Immediately, she seized the metal filing cabinet that she had earlier observed, and used it to block the doorway. The clang of a bullet denting the metal told Erian she had cut it rather fine, but at least it had worked, and she had no new perforations.

_Right?_ A quick check of her body proved that she had escaped unscathed. _Right. Now, for that disk._

Erian started towards the desk, ignoring the increasingly irritating sounds of bullets bouncing off the metal filing cabinet. But before she could take more than two steps, the phone on the desk rang.

She blinked, and paused. After a moment's consideration, Erian picked up the phone and said, "Hello?"

"Agent Ross? Good. We need you to come in."

Erian recognized the voice. It was Agent Coulson, who regularly dispatched Clint and Erian on their missions whenever Fury was too busy to do it himself – which was rather often. She glanced back at the filing cabinet, and saw that the first wall of the admittedly flimsy metal was bending inwards.

"Now?" Erian said. "I'm kind of in the middle of something."

"Ross," Coulson said again, and Erian wished he wouldn't call her that. Not that she had a preference, really, but still –

"Barton's been compromised."

The world slowed down. Erian felt her heart beat, once, an eternity of time as she vividly remembered the colors in Clint's eyes the last time he kissed her.

"I'll be right there," Erian said.

She set the phone down, gently, carefully, letting it ease back onto its stand with a soft click. The sounds of the gunfire outside the makeshift door seemed to have faded away, swallowed up by the soft rhythm of Erian's breathing.

_Clint . . . I . . ._

_What does he mean by 'compromised'?_

_Clint?_

Erian turned around and looked at the filing cabinet. Bullets had penetrated the cabinet and were now shredding the one remaining wall of metal between here and the gunfire. She opened a drawer in the desk and removed the disk she had come for.

For a moment, Erian hated the fragile silver circle in her hand. That tiny little disk was what had taken her away from Clint – _and if I'd been there, this never would have happened. Whatever it is, I would have stopped it._

_I would never have let anyone touch my partner._

For a moment, Erian wanted to tighten her fingers and crush that silver circle. But the moment passed, and she tucked it into an empty sheathe on one of her knife belts.

_I'm coming, Clint. I'm on my way._

She examined the doorframe, and used one of her knives to make several strategically placed slices around the edges of the frame. Erian then returned to the desk, and confirmed what she was fairly certain she had seen when taking the disk from the drawer – that the desk had wheels. She brushed everything off the top of the desk, and wheeled it into place, facing the filing cabinet.

Erian gripped the edges of the desk and ran it forward as fast as she could, using the desk as a battering ram. When it slammed into the filing cabinet, the weakened doorframe gave out, and the men on the other side were promptly hit with a flying filing cabinet, a fast moving desk, and a furious Ghostmaker.

Approximately seventeen seconds later, Erian wiped the blade of a knife on a dead man's shirt, and walked away without a backward glance.

_I'm coming, Clint. Wait for me._


	8. SHIELD Helicarrier

**Hello, everyone! The next few chapters here take place within the plot and timeperiod of the movie, because I wanted to examine the effects of what happened on Clint and Erian's minds, and their relationship. Hope you like it.**

**Enjoy!**

**K.S.**

SHIELD Helicarrier – Undisclosed Location

"What happened?" Erian Ross strode across the deck of the helicarrier's bridge like a walking thundercloud, scattering techs and other personnel out of her way without ever touching them. Fury faced her and noted that her eyes were clear and cold – not the sad coldness that he had seen in her when Barton first brought her in. This was a different kind of cold. And it worried him.

"We're not sure," Fury began. Something about the way Agent Ross was moving put him on guard, and he chose his words carefully, not wanting to deliver bad news all at once. It was like backing away from a startled predator – something inside warned him against any sudden movements. "Do you remember Thor, Agent Ross?"

Her dark eyes bored into him, and she said very quietly, "Yes."

Fury wasn't surprised. While Agent Ross had never met Thor, her partner had – and he'd never met a pair of partners closer than Ross and Barton. He continued, "Last night, the Tesseract opened a portal to an uncertain location and Thor's brother, Loki, arrived in our compound, armed with some kind of glowing spear. Using that spear, Loki somehow took control of Barton's mind, along with that of Dr. Selvig. We do not currently know the whereabouts of Barton, Selvig, or Loki."

Agent Ross just looked at him, and Fury stared right back at her. She shook her head ever so slightly, and said in a dry voice, "You expect me to believe that my partner is some kind of mind-controlled zombie?"

Fury internally sighed. Agent Ross, while having a spectacular efficiency rate, was also the agent who gave him the most headaches. He could feel one building right now, low in the back of his head. "No. Barton and Selvig both acted with initiative to further Loki's interests. It appeared to be a complete and total reverse of loyalty. I have the highest confidence in Barton, and in Selvig. I believe that whatever was in Loki's spear has forced new loyalties on our people. I don't know how, but I'm certain that they are not acting of their own free will."

_Finally_ Agent Ross did something other than stare. She turned sideways to him, apparently not caring that she was walking away from her boss mid-conversations, and stalked over to a data screen. It was currently running the security footage that SHIELD's techs had managed to digitally extract from the compound before it had been destroyed by the Tesseract's uncontrolled energy. Ross leaned over the shoulder of a suddenly nervous tech, and watched in silence for a few moments.

Then she stood, and suddenly looked very, very tired. Fury wondered when Ross had last slept. She reached up to run a hand through her hair, and visibly remembered that her hair was braided, the way she always wore it for a mission. Ross settled for pulling the braid over her shoulder and wrapping it around her hand. It was the closest to a nervous habit that Fury had ever seen her do.

Her voice was hollow when she spoke, and her eyes were beginning to look empty. "Yes. He has to be under some kind of . . . forced loyalty, because I know that's not him. Not really. It's him on the outside, but there's something else inside him." Ross looked down at the hair she'd wrapped around her fingers, and said softly, "He didn't smile. Not once."

Fury was experiencing a very odd emotion, at least for him – the sensation that he was intruding on something private, something he wasn't meant to see. But he understood what Ross was saying. Fury had worked with Barton for years, and he had come to expect the archer to make some kind of joke at least once in every encounter; even if it was only a very bad joke, Barton always tried. Fury had felt the conversation they'd had in the compound drifting toward it – but that was before Loki.

And after Loki, Barton hadn't even tried. Not once.

Fury said firmly, "Agent Ross," and saw her head come up, and her eyes refocus. "I'm ordering you to get some sleep. Get yourself cleaned up. I'll have someone alert you as soon as we have any new information on Barton. Don't worry about debriefing from your mission; there will be time for that later. In a few hours, I'm sending you to bring in Dr. Banner."

Ross raised an eyebrow, but said only, "Sleep? How exactly do you expect me to sleep, Director?"

He ignored the sarcasm that one of his best agents had just given his rank. Fury had heard it all before, and in any case, he had more important things to do. Putting some steel in his voice to get the point across, he replied, "Agent Ross, consider yourself dismissed until 1400 hours." To cement the order, he turned his back and walked away, despite the discomfort that Fury always felt when he turned his back on the Ghostmaker.

It was his turn to lean over a tech's shoulder, but he was only using the screen to watch Agent Ross's reflection as she left the bridge. Fury didn't know where she was going. She might have taken him seriously, as he had meant her too – but he would have bet his last dime against it.

* * *

_Mind control? Loki? And Fury sends me after Banner?_

Erian stood under a shower hot enough to turn her skin red, washing and rewashing her hair, over and over. The same motion, every time, her fingertips digging into her scalp in a never ending cycle of repetition. Her eyes were closed. The water running over her face felt like tears.

_Or raindrops. Raindrops on the street, warm puddles on the sidewalk, one soaked paper airplane fighting its way towards her –_

_No. I'm not going to go there right now. I can't afford to be distracted. I have to do everything I can to get Clint back._

Erian had shampoo in her eyes. She blinked rapidly, letting the water stream from the shower head splatter against her face to rinse the soap away.

_Great. If I didn't know better, I'd ask what else could possibly go wrong. But I've been around long enough to know that's the one question you should never ask – because it will be answered immediately. And not in a good way._

She couldn't feel the skin on her hands. Too much hot water. Erin's face was tingling from the sting of the heat, but at least the soap was out of her eyes. It was nice in the shower. She couldn't tell if she was crying.

_Should I be crying? What the hell is going on, anyway?_

Erian had never heard of something like what had happened to Clint. She knew, knew for sure, he wouldn't turn his back on SHIELD – wouldn't turn his back on _her._

Would he?

She was in shock, she knew that. Trying to imagine something horrible enough to seize a human mind and make it change masters, while still allowing it the capacity for initiative – Erian couldn't manage it. She just couldn't.

_If it's so bad that even I can't comprehend it, what's it like for Clint? What's he going through while I stand here in the shower, feeling sorry for myself?_

She turned off the water and opened the shower door, letting the cold air swirl in around her. The heat of the water had been her sanctuary, the only place she could afford to be Erian Ross. Now she set herself to cope the only way she knew how – by letting the cold surround her until it became her, and she froze into the Ghostmaker.

Erian stepped out of the shower and let the ice crawl through her veins as it consumed her.


	9. SHIELD Helicarrier - 2

**Hi, everyone! While this chapter was a challenge to write, it was really fun for me. Mostly because I got to be mad at Loki. But then, it's always fun to come up with new ways to describe evil and express hatred. Which sounds very dire, doesn't it? Well. You'll just have to read it.**

**Enjoy!**

**K.S.**

SHIELD Helicarrier – Undisclosed Location

Erian was strongly tempted to scream at the top of her lungs, but didn't, even though it would certainly have gotten the attention of the various squabbling people gathered around the table. And while that would have been a good thing, she didn't think it would help much with the issue of deciding what to do next. Which was exactly what made her want to scream – they were all standing around and not doing anything _useful._

Captain Rogers was sitting right in front of her, head down, blue eyes cloudy. For a moment, the angle of his head reminded Erian of Clint, and she quickly looked away.

Tony Stark was standing across from the Captain, rattling on about who-knew-what, waving his hands theatrically and being a general pain. Erian didn't like Stark very much. His attitude irritated her, and every time she looked at him she saw the glaring contrast between him and Clint – Clint, with his quiet humor and subtle dignity, instead of Stark's endless chatter and automatic egotism.

Her gaze drifted toward Dr. Banner, the only one of the assembled men that Erian might actually like, instead of being neutral, or hostile. He was sitting quietly, cleaning his glasses and looking out the giant glass wall at the front of the bridge, staring into the blue sky that gave lie to the darkness confronting them all. Banner's face was composed, but Erian saw something in his eyes that spoke of an infinite sadness, and she understood him in that moment, as she had never understood anyone but her partner. And what she found scared her.

Erian looked away as Banner looked up. Thor was pacing, arms crossed, scowling like the thunderclouds he could call. She wondered what it had been like for Thor to return to the Earth – a planet he supposedly loved – only to fight his own brother.

Which brought her back to the main issue – Loki.

_So he wanted to be captured. Why? And why are we all just sitting around, arguing pointlessly, while Clint's mind is being turned inside out? What's he going through now? What kind of torture is it to be forced to use his creativity, that spark that makes him who he is, against his own will?_

Silently, Erian slipped away, out the doors, and walked through the halls toward the holding cell that had been built for the Hulk. She didn't know what she would say, or what she would do. Erian just knew that she had to see the man – no, the creature – who had stolen her partner away from her. She had to look in Loki's eyes and see the evil there, try to get inside his head and find a way to get him out of Clint's mind.

_Is that even possible?_

The Ghostmaker crushed that fear. There was no time for fear, no room for weakness. Not now. _There is a way. There has to be._

She scanned her security codes into the doors, and walked into the bay that held Loki in his cell. Erian's feet made no sound. She was somehow still wearing her combat uniform, but really didn't need the sound-muffling boots to sneak up on him, even if he was a god – Erian had been practicing silent movement for years, and a god was only ever a god. She would bet anything on someone who earned their power, rather than someone who was given power. Those who worked for it practiced more often.

Loki had his back to Erian, but she was only standing there for a few moments before something in his stance changed, and she knew he was smiling. She hated him already. _Didn't someone tell me once that everyone deserved a second chance? I think so. It must have been a very long time ago. Clint gave me my second chance._

Nothing visibly changed on Erian's face, but something inside her drew its knives. _No second chance for you, Loki. Some things I will not forgive. And no one touches my partner._

He turned around, and Erian knew that sick grin would haunt her nightmares. She searched Loki's eyes for something that would explain to her why he had chosen to commit atrocities – and saw nothing.

Nothing. _Nothing! _

_How could there be nothing in his eyes?_

Loki's smile grew wider as he said, "There aren't many people who can sneak up on me."

The Ghostmaker raised an eyebrow, ever so slightly. "Perhaps you aren't as powerful as you believer, Trickster."

She read that flicker of something in his eyes. It was glaringly obvious when compared to the oblivion that was his empty stare. Loki hadn't expected her to know his title.

"What brings you here, Ghostmaker?" Loki asked. She admired his tactic. He had deftly changed the subject, while letting her know he wasn't impressed by her knowledge, simply by calling her by assassin's name.

The Ghostmaker glanced aside, breaking eye contact for the first time. Loki had been moving steadily towards her, but she had been utterly still. After a convincing hesitation, she said quietly, "What will you do with Barton?"

There was that horrible grin again. She hated it. Hated Loki's empty eyes and his sick smile. He leaned forward towards the glass between them, and said, "Why, is this love, Erian Monroe?"

The tiny part of her that was still Erian screamed. She knew in her soul that there was only one way Loki could have known that name, her name, her _real _name – or at least, the first name she'd ever had.

_Clint told him. What did Loki do to him to make Clint give away my secrets?_

The Ghostmaker said, "What would I know about love?"

Loki's grin just wouldn't go away. "I wonder," he said, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret, "What exactly would you do to save this one man?"

_It's working. It always works. Just like chess. Leave an opening; try to cover it in a hurry. He dove right in and never looked to see what was at the bottom. _She shrugged. "Call it curiosity. What are you planning for him?" _My trap is at the bottom, and Loki just jumped right into it._

_Although I've never played chess with my heart at stake. I guess I have now._

Loki's empty eyes widened, and he whispered, "What am I planning for him?" Abruptly, he slammed a clenched fist against the glass. The Ghostmaker wasn't surprised. She had seen the muscles clench in his shoulder in the instant before he moved his arm, but she managed to convincingly jump and then shy away from the glass.

"I won't touch Barton. Not until I make him kill you. Slowly, intimately, in every way he knows you fear. And then he'll wake just long enough to see his good work, and when he screams I'll split his skull! That is what I have planned for your precious partner, you mewling quim!"

The Ghostmaker shrank back, eyes widening, head beginning to shake. It didn't take much effort to make her body shake like a leaf in a winter gale. Erian thought, _Quim? Did he really just call me a quim? I don't even know what that is. But this idiot really has a taste for melodrama. The grand charge, just before the complete and total rout._

"You're a monster," she whispered.

Loki's hideous grin widened as he towered over her. Erian was not particularly tall, but he was, and she let that small advantage go his head. _But someday soon I will cut him down to size. And then he will beg me on his knees to be allowed to release my partner. Because he's already given me that king – there is a way to free Clint. To 'wake' him._

_Now, come on. Take that one last step. The trap's right here, ready and waiting. Looks good to you, doesn't it, you bastard? _

Loki's smile no longer bothered her. She saw it now as an expression of his twisted heart – forever basking in someone else's screams. "No," he breathed. "You brought the monster."

_You'll never hear my scream. And thank you very much for telling me what I wanted to know. Check, and mate._

The Ghostmaker abruptly stood upright, and touched the radio bud in her ear. She wanted Loki to think that this had been planned, to think his humiliation had been orchestrated, not improvised. Making up her words as she said them, she told the empty radio line, "Fury. Mission complete. Loki means to unleash the Hulk."

She had the satisfaction of watching that grin melt of Loki's face, watching an actual emotion fill his eyes as he realized he'd been tricked – as he realized how entirely he had fallen for her trap. As she stalked away from him, on her way to really tell Fury what Loki had planned, the Ghostmaker allowed a sliver of Erian to smirk out at the world by looking over her shoulder to say, "Thank you for your cooperation."

_Nice playing chess with you._


	10. SHIELD Helicarrier - 3

**Hey, everyone. We're almost out of the plot of the Avengers, but I still have the chance to have fun messing around in my characters' heads. Well, the one character I can claim, anyway. If the short timejumps are confusing you, I apologize, but I had absolutely no interest in simply rewriting the entire movie. **

**Oh, and I have discovered that I am apparently incapable of writing a good fight scene without having a cup of tea handy. I have no explanation for this.**

**DakotaLyon, marvelgirl88, and CarlyCarnations - you guys rock. I'm glad you like it. Spread the word! My greatest joy as an author is when new readers enjoy my work, so tell your friends!**

**Enjoy!**

**K.S.**

SHIELD Helicarrier – Undisclosed Location

Erian crouched in the dark, hidden from view by the broken, sparking electrical cords around her, dangling down amidst the torn metal wreckage. The Hulk had ripped apart six levels of priceless technology like it was plywood. She glanced down at her leg, and her mouth twisted. The explosion that had shocked Banner into becoming the Hulk had dropped a pipe on her, spraining her knee.

But the worst part of the Hulk's fury was the fear she'd seen in Banner's eyes just before he lost control. Erian had tried to talk him down, help him keep the Hulk contained, but she couldn't. She'd looked into Banner's eyes, and seen fear, and self-loathing, and she would stake her life on the fact that he had been trying to tell her to run.

_Well, that's hard to do with a giant pipe on my leg. And by the time I could run, the Hulk was more than capable of keeping up with me. I don't put much stock in luck, but I do count myself lucky that Thor came along when he did. Still, if the Hulk keeps breaking things, this whole helicarrier will collapse from within._

_Speaking of collapsing, that explosion was no accident. What the hell is going on?_

Erian turned on her radio ear bud, but heard only incoherent shouting, and possibly the sound of something blowing up. Definitely gunfire. Fury's voice was in there somewhere, but she had no idea what he was trying to say.

The helicarrier shuddered, and Erian grabbed a support strut to keep her balance, only to have the metal beam come free of its moorings and nearly brain her as it swung past. She stood up, shaky on her bad leg, but at least she could stand. _Loki. This is his fault. What's he doing, now that the Hulk is tearing this place to shreds? What's the second step in his plan?_

Naturally, it was at that moment that Fury's voice said clearly, "It's Barton. He took out our systems. He's headed for the detention level. Does anybody copy?"

Some small part of Erian wanted to cry. _Clint turned on us. Clint is destroying this fortress from within. And I have to take him down. How can I fight my own partner?_

But she understood. In fact, she recognized it as inevitable. She was the only one who knew Clint well enough to stand a chance. It simply had to happen, sooner or later. _Looks like sooner._

_I have to be the one. No one else would get close. No one else can touch him._

_And I would never let anyone else touch Clint, even if they could. He's my partner. My responsibility._

_My second chance. And now I will be his._

Her hands shook, but her voice was steady. "This is the Ghostmaker. I copy."

* * *

Clint was moving with purpose, boots hitting metal in a steady rhythm along the walkway. So intense was his focus that it took him a few, fatal seconds too long to notice the lighter set of footsteps hiding any sound in the pattern of his own stride.

He whirled, bow drawn, ready to kill, and the Ghostmaker twisted the bow in his hands, sending the arrow whistling away towards the distant ceiling.

_Oh, hell. His eyes. Loki's eyes. They're the same. Blue-black, and empty. That's really not him._

Clint attacked, using the bow like a quarterstaff. The Ghostmaker simply grabbed the ends of the bow stave and folded it in on itself, locking it in place. The look on his face would have been priceless, at any other moment.

Far away and very small, Erian rolled her eyes and thought, _Really, Clint? How many times have I watched you snap that bow open and closed, and it never occurred to you that I learned a thing or two? I might not be able to hit the broad side of a barn using your weapon, but I know how to lock it shut._

The Ghostmaker was too busy for such thoughts. She was striking with knives in her hands, but only using the hilts. A quick punch to Clint's arm in just the right place to deaden the nerves. A hard kick to his knee, to put him off balance. She did regret using that one, because it meant she had to stand on her own bad knee to do it.

Clint struck back at her, of course. But somehow she just couldn't make herself use blades against her partner.

_He'll kill you. This isn't Clint. He'll kill you. Fight him! _

But she couldn't. The Ghostmaker narrowly avoided being stabbed with an arrow, and found her arm twisted back behind her, inches from snapping the bones in her wrist. She didn't give Clint time to use the hold against her – the Ghostmaker planted one foot on the railing, kicked off as hard as she could, and flipped backwards over his head, yanking her arm free with a painful jerk, and landing in a ready crouch behind him.

Clint didn't turn as quickly as she was expecting him to. _It's Loki. He's using Clint's skills, but doesn't have his experience, especially not with Clint's body and limits, or lack of them. Clint will never fight as well for Loki as he does for himself._ The tiny part of her that was still Erian loved that idea – there was a kind of justice in it.

The Ghostmaker caught Clint's shoulder as he turned, hooked a foot around behind his ankle, and tripped him, using his momentum to slam him headfirst into the metal railing.

She let him go, feeling that horrible _crack_ sound reverberate in her heart. He tried to stand, staggered, and hit his knees. Clint shook his head a little, and looked up at her with blurred eyes – his own eyes, the color of a lightning storm, full of emotion, and confusion. "Erian?" he whispered, and tried to stand again.

Impassively, the Ghostmaker punched him in the forehead with the hilt of a knife.

But Erian caught him before he hit the ground, her merciless blades already sheathed. She knelt there on the metal walkway and cradled her unconscious partner in her arms. "Clint," she whispered, and stared down at the red mark on the side of his head where he had hit the railing. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. This is all my fault."

_I should have been there. I should have insisted that Fury send us both. I should have been there when Loki stole his mind. I would never have let it happen._

_I'm so sorry, Clint. I'm so sorry._


	11. SHIELD Helicarrier -4

**Hey, guys! I'm so sorry that this took forever, but I've been really busy and I had writer's block. Fortunately, I've gotten past that, and it should be much smoother sailing from here. Well, for me, anyway - Erian's going to be awfully busy.**

**I'm finishing up with the plot of the Avengers movie and moving on into new territory, yay, so I hope that you like it!**

**Enjoy!**

**K.S.**

SHIELD Helicarrier – Undisclosed Location

Erian watched Clint strain against the restraints, his eyes open and staring and unfocused, sweat beading on his face. She glanced down at her trembling hands and did nothing.

_I have no way of knowing if he'll be all right._

_He has to be all right._

_Rogers said that SHIELD was building weapons out of the Tesseract. I had no idea. I've been content to be an assassin – to be Clint's partner. But what I didn't know about the Tesseract almost got him killed. I want to know more. I have to know more._

_What else have they not been telling me?_

Clint gasped, and his eyes cleared. He went still, and finally turned his head toward her. "Erian?"

She stood, and released the restraints. "I'm here."

He needed her help to sit up, but gained his balance quickly. "What happened?" Clint asked.

She didn't want to talk about it. "Cognitive recalibration." Any other time, he would have raised an eyebrow at her, but now he just looked confused. Erian melted. "I hit you really hard in the head," she confessed.

"Thanks." That hurt. How could he thank her? "For driving him out," Clint added, and she understood.

_Loki. I will make Loki wish he had never touched my partner. _It was a fierce rush of anger, of the urge to protect the one she cared for, but she had a miserable feeling inside her whispering that she was only angry because there was nothing she could do to make it right. That she could only do more wrong. That she sought revenge out of helplessness.

_Then so be it._

Erian sat down next to Clint on the bed, and studied his eyes. It was him, definitely. But there was something new in his eyes now – a haunted, hunted look. She put her hand on his arm. She wanted to put her head on his shoulder and just listen to his heartbeat, but anyone could walk through the door at any time. And Erian had no wish to advertise her relationship with Clint.

He sighed a little, and ran his fingers over her braid, letting his hand rest on her back. "How many?" he whispered, and Erian tensed. "How many agents?" Clint persisted, and she shook her head.

"Don't. Don't do that."

He closed his eyes. "I want to know."

"I don't know," Erian lied. "I was a little busy at the time. And there was nothing you could have done. It wasn't you. It was Loki."

Clint made a small sound in his throat and leaned forward, resting his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees.

She felt far away from him now, despite being the person closest to him in the whole world. Despite being right next to him. Erian had to find her way back to him now, had to find her way back to trusting him implicitly again. She trusted him, of course she did, but –

But it was different somehow. It felt like walking a familiar path in the dark, knowing that she _should _know every step as easily as breathing, but finding that it had somehow changed utterly since she'd walked it last.

"You all right?" Erian asked softly. She knew it was a stupid question. _How could he ever be all right? _ But she had to know. She wanted to know that she'd done the right thing. And she needed a way to reach out across that endless void and touch him in any little way, any way she could

Clint smiled a little, just a little, but it did wonders for her broken heart. "Yeah. I'm all right." He stretched, and stood up. "I could use a shower, though."

Erian smiled. "Sorry, the medbay's pretty full, and this is just an auxiliary room. Sink, yes, shower, no."

He shrugged, and wandered toward the bathroom. Erian sighed softly, feeling her world start to knit itself back together where it had been broken. _He's ok. It's going to be ok. I'm going to be ok._

_We can fix this. We have to be able to fix this._

The door opened to admit Captain Rogers, and Erian looked up at him, not sure what exactly she was expecting to see on his face. Mistrust, maybe. She'd taken down her own partner, after all. But all she saw there was exhaustion, and . . . was that sorrow in his eyes?

_Look at that color. That blue. It's incredible._

Rogers looked back at her, and said, "Time to go."

Erian tensed again, more subtly this time, disguising the sudden readiness of her tired muscles by leaning forward. "Go where?" Maybe she was too suspicious. Maybe her paranoia was returning. Maybe she was having trust issues again.

_My own partner tried to kill me, and I had to take him down. I think I'm allowed a bit of paranoia. And now we're cut adrift from each other, and I don't know how to bring him back. How to make my own way back to him._

_Oh, Clint, how do we find each other again? How do we make a new kind of normal after something like this?_

"I'll tell you on the way," Rogers said, and Erian looked at his eyes and found herself wondering what gave him the right to order her around. She wasn't a soldier. "Can you fly one of those jets?"

_Ah, so that's it. They need me to pilot for them. They're out of luck; I couldn't fly a quinjet if I wanted to. But – _

"I can." Clint walked through the door with his hair messed up in that way Erian knew so well – _he must have splashed water on his face and gotten it in his hair. Again._ The sight made her want to smile, but she wasn't sure she wanted Rogers to see that. Not now.

Rogers was looking at her again, obviously asking if he could trust Clint. _Of course we can trust him. He's Clint. He's my partner. I trust him more than anyone else in the world._

But it was like she was trying to convince herself of that trust. Erian believed in Clint with her whole heart – but it was like being strangers again, being ordered to trust someone she didn't know. The order came from herself, and yet she struggled to regain her balance in a world that seemed to take pleasure in turning her life upside down every time she got settled down.

Erian glanced at the Captain and nodded, too tired and too sad to speak. Clint offered his hand to her and she took it, rising and tipping her head from side to side, stretching out and feeling the ache of sore muscles. _Too bad. Looks like I'm going to war. _

"Do you have a suit?" Rogers asked Clint. Clint nodded, eyes on Erian, and the Captain said firmly, "Then suit up."

Erian almost laughed, because it was so heroic and dramatic and ridiculous, and somehow the soldier managed to pull it off. She shared an amused glance with Clint. Let the Captain fight in the open in his bright colors, for all to see and all to know.

She and Clint fought in the shadows, where the only spotlight came from streetlights and the only absolution came from rainstorms. And she wouldn't have it any other way – no matter how long it took to put them both back together.


	12. New York City - Stark Tower Guest Suite

**Don't get confused - the last chapter was set right before the Chitauri battle. This is set a few hours after. And after this chapter, we can kiss the familiar plotlines goodbye as I start weaving my brand-new ideas together into one.**

**Oh, and for all you people who have followed or favorited - I can see you! I expect reviews!**

**Enjoy!**

**K.S.**

New York City – Stark Tower

Erian knew that she would regret agreeing to spend the night in Stark Tower. It was mostly because she and Clint had nowhere else to go. They had to decide if they would return to SHIELD, but that kind of decision wasn't one that you made right after saving the world. They both needed rest, and Erian's hurt knee was screaming at her after she'd ridden a Chitauri ship to the top of Stark Tower.

Trying to relax inside the building she had recently been flying past was pretty much impossible. And she really was trying, curled up with Clint in a bed that was too comfortable, in a room that was too expensive. Erian couldn't breathe. She got up and opened the window, letting in a rush of cold night air and traffic noise. Strange, how even in the wake of ultimate disaster, traffic jams could not be deterred.

She sat on the edge of the bed and looked at her partner. Clint was sound asleep, but he kept rolling over, mumbling fragments of words.

_Nightmare. _

Erian reached out to touch him, but pulled her hand back. _Why can't I touch him? He's my partner. I trust him. _

But a tiny, horrible thought whispered, _Can you ever really trust him again? Will you ever forget that emptiness in his eyes as he fought to kill you?_

Erian shuddered and turned around so she could sit on the bed. Her back was to Clint, but she could hear him stirring. He was restless, sound asleep but seeing horrors. _I should wake him. Just a touch. Nothing more. He always wakes me when I have nightmares. I only have to reach out and touch him._

_But that was . . . before._

She rubbed her hands over her face and back down, staring at her palms and listening to Clint muttering in his sleep. Erian's heart hurt, and she somehow couldn't bring herself to move. _Am I still frozen? Am I still being the Ghostmaker? Why can't I trust him like I used to?_

_No. I know why. I will always know why, and that _is _why. I cannot forget. But . . . it's Clint. I know him. He's everything to me. How can I not trust him?_

_I don't know. We're so far apart, even in the same room. The same bed. We didn't really talk. He fell asleep and I laid there staring at the ceiling and listening to him breathe._

Erian closed her eyes, and Clint gasped behind her. He jerked upright, abruptly awake, and said loudly, "_Erian!_"

_He sounds scared. _She turned around and saw Clint's face, with the fear there, and the way it turned to relief when he saw her. He reached out for her and Erian moved toward him, wrapping her arms around his neck and letting Clint hold her close. He was shaking, and she could feel his heartbeat racing.

_He was afraid for me. The nightmare was about me. _Erian had a sick sort of feeling that she knew exactly what Clint had dreamed, and she didn't want to hear it, but he needed her now. She picked her head up and looked into his eyes for a moment – those eyes that so enchanted her, endless clouds of color and streaks of light staring back at her with a warmth she'd missed _so much. . ._

Looking in Clint's eyes felt like coming home, and Erian felt a piece of her broken self heal. She kissed him gently and whispered, "It was just a dream. I'm right here. It's all right."

Clint took a shaky breath, and said in a rough voice, "I know. But it – it almost wasn't. The things I could have done – Erian, I was going to – you know I would never hurt you, don't you?" His voice was suddenly desperate, and it hurt her inside.

"I know," Erian promised, and she was saying it not only to Clint, but to herself. "I know. You would never. And I kicked your ass before you could even come close, didn't I, Barton?"

Clint's laugh was a broken thing, and it made Erian's heart ache for the way it used to sound. _Healing is hard. This is going to take a very long time. _"Yeah," he replied, and she smiled a little to hear him sound more certain. "Yeah. You did. Thanks."

_Healing is very hard. But it's already begun. And I won't give up on Clint. I would never. We'll be all right now._ Erian laid back down beside him, curling up in his arms and listening to his breathing, letting him feel her solid and safe against him. "Anytime," she said softly. "Anytime."


	13. Boise

**Hello, all. I'm happy to be able to update within a few days instead of, say, a month or two . . . ahem. Yeah. This chapter owes a great big thank-you to my dad, who makes the best barbeque sandwiches in the world, and gave me the idea for this chapter. Inspiration comes from everywhere!**

**Thanks to all who have read and reviewed.**

**Enjoy!**

**K.S.**

Boise

Erian looked down at her feet and wondered if she was doomed to wear high-heeled shoes forever. She sighed, and picked her head up to look in the bathroom mirror and fix her lipstick. _All right, girl, go to lunch, and come back ready to be Ms. Camille Rider again. I hate undercover work._

It had been a month since the New York battle. Erian and Clint had continued to work for SHIELD – with conditions. Fury gave them a _full _briefing now, and they picked their own assignments. No tricks. Erian had personally selected this mission, pretending to be a new secretary, so that she could retrieve classified documents that never should have been in that office to start with.

But she still hated undercover work. Clint was doing essentially the same thing across town, working in a car repair shop for the day. They would both be ready to return to SHIELD by sundown.

_Right now, I have to go get lunch. And not get anything on this stupid shirt. _Erian glanced down at her pristine white blouse and rolled her eyes. _I never did like wearing white. _

She was on her way out the front doors of the building when her fake identity's cell phone rang. Erian blinked down at the painfully fashionable purse she carried, and started digging through the assorted makeup, money, perfume, and various random items she'd never seen before in search of the phone. A female SHIELD agent had stocked the purse for her, and Erian hadn't the slightest idea of what all was in it.

At last, she located the phone. "Hello?" _Who on Earth is calling this number?_

"Hey there, beautiful. Any chance you could squeeze in a lunch meeting today?"

Erian smiled. "Clint, what are you doing?"

Her partner laughed. "Trying to have lunch with you, of course."

She shook her head and her smile grew. "All right. I know this little barbeque place on Third Avenue. I'll meet you there."

"I can't wait."

Erian ended the call, stuffed the phone back in the purse, and headed for the car her fake identity drove. She couldn't seem to stop smiling. A month had done a lot for the two of them – not that they were back to normal, not at all. _Normal has changed forever. But I don't hesitate to touch him anymore. Clint still has nightmares. But he shakes them off and smiles in the mornings. We're better._

_ And I can finally breathe again. I finally quit looking over my shoulder to make sure he was still there. I _know _Clint is there now. I don't have to look to be sure._

Erian drove fast through the busy streets, eager to meet her partner and swap stories. Undercover ops always provided an opportunity to challenge Clint to a contest – who had the worst temporary job? Erian usually won, although there had been one time when Clint was working in a meat packing warehouse for a day, and he'd had to shower three times to get rid of the smell.

She smiled at the memory as she pulled up and parked in front of a tiny building with an alarming cloud of smoke rising from behind it. Clint was waiting for her by the door, a smile on his face. Erian swung herself out of the car and sauntered over to him, mindful of her sore feet.

"Hey," he greeted her. "Are you sure this place isn't on fire?"

Erian grinned. "I'm sure. It always looks like this. Trust me, you'll never find better barbeque."

Clint shrugged and followed her through the door, a tiny bell ringing over their heads as they entered. The building was even smaller inside, a counter with stools built next to the window, and two tables over in one corner. A third table had a cash register on it, and a man in a sauce-covered apron looked up from counting money to smile at them. "Hello, folks. What can I do for you?"

Erian smiled sweetly at him, aware that she and Clint made quite a pair, with her in her skirt and blouse and heels, and him in his mechanic's coveralls. _Maybe he should have been the secretary, and I should have gone to work in the car shop._ "I'll have the shredded beef sandwich, please." She looked at Clint and said quietly, "I'd recommend the same, but everything is good here."

He looked away from the menu he'd been studying – it was tacked to the wall behind the makeshift counter – and smiled. "I'll have the same," Clint told the man in the apron.

The man smiled. "Great." Erian paid for their food, since she was the one with the purse full of money, and the man promised that their order would be right out.

They took seats at the counter with the stools as the man vanished into the back and the smell of smoke intensified. Clint stretched, arms above his head, and asked, "Having a good day at the office?"

Erian looked down at her feet and shrugged. "It would be better if I didn't have to wear these shoes. And you?"

Clint shrugged. "Not bad – if you like irritated people yelling at you in Spanish while you lie under a car and get oil dripped on you."

She just smiled. It was just so – so _nice, _to be able to sit here and banter with her partner and not have to worry about who was trying to kill them. It was a little thing, true – _but little things are hard to come by in my kind of life._

The man from behind the counter reappeared, carrying two plates of steaming barbecue that smelled like heaven. Erian watched him approach in the window's reflection, and turned to smile at him as he set the food down.

"There you go, folks," he said proudly. "Holler if you need anything."

Clint thanked him, and Erian turned her attention to her sandwich. She remained focused on her meal for several minutes, finally sighing as she finished, delicately wiping her fingertips on a napkin.

Erian turned to Clint to see that he had also finished eating, and was giving her an odd look. "What?" she asked.

Clint shook his head slightly, and said, "How do you do that? You're spotless."

She blinked, and looked down at herself. Erian's white blouse and black skirt were still pristine, and there wasn't a single smear of barbeque sauce on her face. Erian glanced at her partner and grinned. Clint was _covered _in barbeque sauce, practically up to his elbows in it. There was also a large smudge of sauce around his mouth.

Erian laughed and shook her head. "I've been eating barbecue forever, Clint. I know how to keep myself clean. It's not that hard – though you seem to be challenged in that area."

Clint gave her a rueful glance as he used a handful of napkins to wipe sauce off of himself. "You must have had quite a bit of practice."

Her smile turned wistful, and Erian turned her head a little to gaze out the window into the blazing sunshine. "Yeah. My dad used to run a barbecue place, back home. I remembered this little spot because he always liked to scope out the best competition, no matter how far away they were."

He tipped his head to the side, and said curiously, "Erian, did you used to live close to here?"

Erian shook her head, her smile fading away. "No. Not here. I came here a lot, though. He liked Boise." She leaned forward, setting her elbow on the counter and resting her chin in her hand. _I wonder where he is now . . . _

It was the first time she'd mentioned her family in . . . _years. Years and years. I can't remember the last time I thought about them. My dad. My mom. She always told me to remember my coat, don't take dark shortcuts, and be polite. _Erian's eyes darkened slightly. _I haven't exactly followed that advice. I wonder if she ever thinks about me._

Clint's face softened and he turned toward her a little more, reaching out to touch her shoulder. At that moment, the sun reflected off the window of a passing car outside the window, sending a blaze of light into Clint's face – and suddenly, Erian saw his eyes blank and empty and lit from within.

She snatched the knife that had come with her sandwich off the table, knocking the fork to the ground. Erian caught her breath as the moment passed and Clint blinked, breaking the light in his eyes and gazing at her with his normal storm-colored stare. "Erian? What's wrong?"

Erian forced her breathing to settle, and turned away, bending down to retrieve the fork. "Nothing," she said evenly. "Just a trick of the light."

Clint wasn't buying it, she could tell, but he didn't push the subject. _Probably because he has a pretty good idea what it was about, even if he isn't sure what exactly triggered that reaction. Hell, I didn't know I was that willing to pull a knife on him. It kind of scares me. Before Loki, he would have thought we were being attacked. But now . . . now, we can't be sure of anything. _Clint's touch surprised Erian as he gently brushed a loose strand of hair out of her face.

"Hey," he said softly, "It's ok. We're still here. And guess who isn't?"

Erian smiled, and looked up at him, a little bit shy. "Yeah. I know. We're ok. I'm –"

Clint leaned forward and kissed her. Erian blinked, surprised, but not in an unpleasant manner. She closed her eyes, and when Clint gently pulled back, he said firmly. "Don't. Don't you dare apologize. If anything like – like _that _– ever happens again -"

Erian tried to interrupt, tried to tell him she would _never let it happen again_, but he put his finger over her lips and kept talking. "If it ever happens again, you do _whatever _you have to do to stop me. You take care of yourself, and don't you dare let me –" Clint looked down, hesitating. "You just make sure you kick my ass before anything happens, all right?"

She wondered for a moment how he did it – how he made her melt inside back into a little girl. "All right. But it will never happen again."

Clint smiled at her, but Erian never found out what he would have said next, because her phone rang. She sighed, slung the purse off the back of her stool, and upended it over the counter. A wave of unfamiliar items crashed out, including one buzzing cell phone.

Erian ignored Clint's raised eyebrows and amused smile, and picked up the phone to check the caller ID. "Ugh. It's the boss from hell. I guess that ends my lunch break."

He grinned at her. "The boss from hell? I thought that meant Fury."

She smacked him on the arm, and started stuffing things back in the purse that she was rapidly coming to hate. "Oh, no. This woman is much, _much _worse." Erian finished restocking her purse and stood up, sighing a little and running a hand through her hair.

Clint stood as well, looking down at himself. "Do I still have barbeque sauce on me?"

Erian laughed, and shook her head. "Just a little, around your mouth." She kissed him and then smiled at him. "There. All better."

Clint grinned, and held the door for her as they left. "All right, then. Let's get back to saving the world, one hellish day job at a time."


	14. Rio de Janeiro

**Hello, all. This chapter was tricky to write, but it makes me very happy to have it done, because it begins a brand new story arc. I'm excited to be able to write this idea, and I hope you like it.**

**Enjoy!**

**K.S.**

Rio de Janeiro

Erian stretched slowly, feeling the warm sun on her skin, and smiled. _Now this is the way to do assassination. _She glanced around the general area of the resort's expensive pool, knowing she wouldn't see Clint. _But he can probably see me. _

She liked this version of work. Lounging by a pool at a resort in South America was by far the easiest job Erian had needed to do in a long, long time. But it was actually necessary – she was playing bait for an arms dealer, with Clint waiting somewhere nearby to take the target down. The idea was simple – Erian would lure the man away from the general crowd, and Clint would shoot him.

_But I can just lay here and bask for the moment. _She found it humorous that she'd actually had to purchase clothing for this mission. Erian didn't exactly keep a set of tropics-worthy clothes in her closet at whichever SHIELD base was her home for a day or two. But she had flat-out refused to wear a swimsuit in front of all the strangers at the resort – not nearly enough places to hide knives - so Erian was stretched out on lounge chair in cutoff jeans and a cropped t-shirt. _I'm an assassin, not a pinup. I wish they'd stop staring. Honestly, would it kill a man to walk past me without his eyes glazing over?_

_ I bet Clint's finding this hilarious. Unfortunately, I can't give him a hard time about it without these morons wondering why I'm talking to myself._

Erian turned her head to the side, wondering when the target was going to show up. _Any time now would be fine. Just walk out that door and notice me. _

As if on cue, the door opened, and the man she instantly recognized from his SHIELD file stepped out into the hot sun. He blinked once, and produced a pair of sunglasses from his pocket, settling them onto his face. _That's right. Look over here. _Right as he started to turn towards Erian, her target paused – reached up to scratch the side of his neck – and dropped to the ground in a crumpled heap.

Erian was moving before the people around her registered the man's collapse. She knelt by the target's side, checked his pulse, and stood up again as people began to gather. Panic was spreading rapidly, and Erian needed out. She carefully stepped away from what was now a corpse, and said quietly, "Clint, we have a problem."

"I saw. Think it was a rival dealer?"

She looked down at the hollow dart between her fingers, and replied, "No. I know who did this. Check the roof above the pool. He has dark hair, probably wearing a jacket."

Clint said incredulously, "In this kind of heat? I don't see anyone. If he was up here, he's gone."

Erian was still looking down when a voice behind her said in surprise, "Ghostmaker?"

She went very, very still. The voice continued, "Well, I never thought I'd see you here. Were we working the same guy?"

Slowly, Erian turned around to look into green eyes in a face she thought she'd never see again. Choosing her words carefully, she said, "Lee Jaxxon. Fancy meeting you here."

_Fancy _was the codeword she and Clint used for what her partner called an _oh shit _situation. And _oh shit _was _exactly _what Erian was thinking. As an afterthought, she added, "Or are you still going by Shinobi?"

Jaxxon's eyes crinkled up when he smiled. Erian remembered that about him, but she'd forgotten the edge in that smile. It made her skin crawl. "It's still Shinobi. And you can tell your partner to calm down. I'm not going to hurt either of you."

_That _stung her pride. "As if you could," Erian said softly. _What the hell does he want? Why didn't he just leave? I get that he likes to cause chaos – that's his style, as much as it irritates me. But why stay to talk?_

Jaxxon spread his hands in a conciliatory way. "All right, that was a bit much. But don't get all knifey on me. I just want to talk to you for a minute, that's all. For old time's sake?"

Erian stared at him expressionlessly, letting nothing show. _For old times' sake? We killed three people together, and I almost killed him. What the hell _does _he want?_

He grinned at her, and a chill ran up her spine. _Shit. I forgot how much I don't like this guy. Hell, I forgot he existed for a while. _"I heard you got out of the business," Jaxxon offered. "Obviously I heard wrong."

She continued to stare, focusing on nothing in particular. Erian had long ago discovered that the key to freaking people out was to stare at a point somewhere behind and between their eyes. _Makes them feel like you can see into their head, or so I was told. A long time ago. I wonder if it still bothers him. _

Jaxxon raised a dark eyebrow at her, still smiling. "I see you've still got the Ghostmaker stare going." He paused for a moment, then leaned forward slightly and said softly, "Are you working for SHIELD?"

_Now we're getting somewhere. _Erian didn't get the chance to answer, because Clint appeared out of nowhere, moving up to stand behind her, just off her left shoulder. _That feels better, having him there. I could take this guy last time we tangled – but I don't know what Shinobi has been up to in the meantime. Nice to know Clint's got my back. _

Clint said quietly, but firmly, "And what's it to you if she is?"

Jaxxon took a very small step back, grinning once again. "Ah, so you've working with Hawkeye now. I always knew you were one to watch, Erian."

She tilted her head to one side, very slightly, and said, "You don't call me that. Call me Ghostmaker, or don't call me anything." _Jaxxon doesn't get to call me by my name. Not after double-crossing me and making me almost kill him._

The Shinobi shook his head. "Look, if this is about that thing in Delhi, I'm sorry. Really. It wasn't personal – just business. But I'm looking to get out of that business. I heard you got a way out through SHIELD, and I was hoping you could put in a word for me with the higher-ups. That's all."

_I don't think so. I remember him better than that. The Shinobi liked his job. He's not the type to settle down for a nice retirement. _

Jaxxon was watching her face, and Clint was standing behind her waiting for her to speak. _It's all on me. _Erian almost said no and walked away – _and maybe that's exactly what I should do. But . . ._

_ But it's like looking myself in the face two years ago. If Clint had walked away from me – I would be dead now. And I'm more than a contract killer. I helped save New York. I won't call myself a hero, but – _

_ Redemption doesn't come easy. It takes faith. Maybe it's my turn to bet on a wild card._

Jaxxon's smile had been slowly fading as he studied Erian's eyes. Finally, he shook his head a little and said, "Look, don't worry about it. I'll just be off, then. Nice talking to you."

Erian watched the man called Shinobi turn and start to walk away. Almost reluctantly, she called after him, "Wait." She could feel Clint tense up behind her, and Erian knew he was wondering what she was thinking. _I don't know what I'm thinking, Clint. Maybe I'm not thinking at all. _

Jaxxon paused, and looked over his shoulder without turning around. "Something you wanted to say, Ghostmaker?" The smile gave his words an edge, and Erian almost, _almost _told him to do something rather obscene.

But she didn't. In a calm voice that she was proud of, Erian said evenly, "Not to one who looks with scorn upon his chance for salvation."

He seemed to freeze for a moment, then turned around, inclined his head, and said simply, "I apologize, Ghostmaker."

Clint moved forward, still not speaking, and put his hand on Erian's shoulder. It was a simple message – _I leave this to you, but I will support your choice. _It almost made Erian wonder if her choice was worth his confidence. _He trusted me. I can't trust Jaxxon, but I will try to keep from condemning him. For now. Let him prove himself anew. _

Erian said quietly, "I have to talk to someone. Is there a way I can contact you?"

She watched in a confused kind of silence as a new light sprang up in Jaxxon's eyes, and his smile changed from bitter to joyful. _And so this is redemption. This is my angry stray to bring in from the cold. And my task to keep him from lashing out, if Fury will take him. _

"Yeah," Jaxxon said eagerly. "Here –" he dug in his pocket for a moment, and Erian reached for a knife hidden in her belt, wondering in a split instant if she'd made a terrible mistake – but the Shinobi produced not a kama or shuriken, but merely a pencil and a small notepad. Jaxxon scrawled a string of numbers in handwriting that Erian could only call _incomprehensible, _and then he held out the paper towards her.

Erian locked eyes with the Shinobi, and said warningly, "Don't make me regret this, Jaxxon. One favor for an old associate – but you owe me. Remember that."

The green in his eyes seemed to darken for a second, but then Jaxxon said softly, "I won't. Thank you."

She took the paper from his hand and said sharply, "Now clear out. I don't want you around here."

The Shinobi grinned, and nodded. "But of course. Nice meeting you, Hawkeye," to Clint, and then, "And nice talking to you again," to Erian. And then he turned around and walked away, whistling as he went.

Erian watched him go until he was out of sight, and then she turned to Clint and said softly, helplessly, "Did I do the right thing?"

He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly, not seeming to care that there was a milling crowd around them, that there were local police taking statements – that the two of them ought to be long gone by now. "It's all right," Clint said softly. "That was quite a choice, but you had to make it. I don't know him. You do. We'll just have to see how it works out." He seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then said quickly, "How do you know him, anyway?"

Erian shook her head, eyes cloudy. "From a long time ago. One of those complicated missions I was telling you about – too many people and too many variables for one person to handle. Jaxxon and I were hired to do the job together. We handled it and he tried to kill me. I had him pinned, but he slipped away. I haven't seen him since." She looked back at Clint, and added, "I don't know if I should have done that."

He looked down at her and said, "Your choice. I'll stand with you. We just have to watch him, that's all. And maybe he'll turn out to be worth another chance."

Erian nodded, and stepped away. _Maybe, _she thought, but she said, "You're right. Let's get out of here. Fury's going to be mad as hell when I pitch this to him."

Clint smiled at her, and took her hand as they started walking. "Too bad for Fury. He'll have to deal with the both of us."

Erian smiled back, and they walked together away from the resort, into an unfamiliar sunshine on the outskirts of a tropical jungle.

**Now that you've read that, I just have to add a gigantic THANK YOU to the one who inspired this plot arc - you know who you are, Shinobi. **

**Everyone let me know what you thought, the review button is easy to find!**

**K.S.**


	15. SHIELD Auxilary Base 319

**Hello, everyone. Things are about to get very, very busy for me, what with the advent of softball on top of club volleyball - but I will keep writing, and I'll try to keep posting fairly regularly. So here's the next chapter. As always, read and review!**

**Enjoy!**

**K.S.**

SHIELD Auxiliary Base – Undisclosed Location

Erian stood very still, head up, hands at her sides, and wondered for the hundredth time if this was really worth the amount of effort she was putting into it.

"I don't like. What did this . . . Lee Jaxxon ever do for you, anyway?"

She ignored Fury's pacing and kept her eyes straight ahead. "He tried to kill me."

Fury snorted. "And do you regard that as such a great favor that you track me down at a top secret base, and ask me to accept this rogue hit man into my organization, where he'll be a threat to the security of multiple nations, and could potentially compromise more missions than you or I can count?"

"No, sir."But I believe in second chances. They usually work out better than the first ones did."

Erian watched Fury turn towards her and put his hands on his hips. He had his _oh, hell no _face on. That wasn't a good sign. "And what happens when they don't?" he demanded.

She kept her face devoid of expression as she replied, "Then someone pays for it, sir. As I know very well."

Fury glared at nothing in particular, and started pacing again. After a few long moments, he said sharply, "I have to put my people first, Agent Ross."

_And it's a mark of how far we've come that you consider me to be one of those people. I see that. And I won't forget it. _

Erian took a quick breath and went for the kill. "I understand that, sir. But may I remind you that not all of our people have shining histories."

_That's right. Think of Barton. Think of me._

_ Think of yourself._

Fury gave her a quick look, and she added quietly, "And I have no qualms about doing a bit of . . . _housekeeping, _should we find rot in the corners."

Erian had to wait a full five minutes while Fury paced, with no expression at all on his face. _Bet he's one hell of a poker player._ Finally, he said in a heavy voice, "All right. You have my permission to bring in your wild card." He turned to give her an iron state and added firmly, "But if this hand goes bad, you're covering the bet, Agent Ross. Are we clear?"

She didn't smile. "Perfectly. Thank you, sir."

Fury shook his head slightly and said tiredly, "Dismissed."

Erian turned around and walked out the door, leaving the director of SHIELD to his thoughts – some of which, she was sure, would not be complimentary about her.

Clint was waiting for her in the hallway – or rather, above it. Erian reached up at tugged at his ankle where his leg dangled down from the rafters. Clint's face appeared in the gap between the ceiling tiles, and he smiled at her before dropping down to the floor.

"How'd it go?" he asked, and Erian shrugged.

"He agreed. But that was the easy part."

Clint gave her a one-armed hug from the side, and they started walking. "Take what you can get, Erian."

She smiled. "Yeah, I know. I just wish –" Erian looked down. "I wish," she said softly.

He glanced at Erian with stormy eyes, and said quietly, "I know. So do I."  
Erian looked up at her partner, startled, and Clint gave her a crooked grin. "What, you're the only one allowed to be serious and brooding?" he asked. "Come on. As long as we're here, let's go get some of the chocolate this place is famous for."

She smiled. "You know I love chocolate."

Clint rolled his eyes. "Well, yeah. Why else would I have suggested it? Come on. I know this great place downtown."

Erian shook her head. "I'd love to, but I have to make a phone call. If you don't mind waiting a few minutes?"

He grinned crookedly, and replied, "No problem. It's not like I have anything better to do."

She smiled back, and wandered off down the hallway in search of a telephone.

* * *

Erian counted three rings on the line before the click. "Hello?"

It was the right voice. "Jaxxon?"

"Yeah. Who's asking?"

She glanced down and wondered, again . . . but it was as good as done, and she'd catch hell from Fury if she backed out now. "Agent Ross. You're in."

There was only the slightest hesitation before Jaxxon said, "That was fast. You're still the best, Ghostmaker. Thank you."

_And you're still awfully quick with that silver tongue, Shinobi. I remember all your tricks. _"Don't thank me. You're on probation. There will be a jet waiting for you in Shanghai in three days – 2300 hours local time. Don't be late."

"I won't," Jaxxon promised. "And thanks, regardless. I know this must have taken a lot of work for you to arrange."

_I'm not going to fall for that one. You don't get to know how much pull I have with SHIELD – and that's an awful lot these days. Stark is being Stark, and we've still got tabs on Dr. Banner, but no one knows exactly where Captain Rogers is, and of course Thor is off-planet. Clint and I are the only Avengers on call at the moment. That gives me a lot of weight to throw around. But you don't get to know that._

Erian hung up without saying a word.

She turned around and walked straight into Clint, who had apparently walked up behind her at some point without her noticing. "Ouch," Erian said, her face buried in his chest.

"Sorry." Clint backed up to give her room to breathe, and asked, "So we're going to Shanghai?"

Erian ran a hand through her hair and decided it should probably be braided. "Yeah. Jaxxon's changed since the last time I saw him. I want to know how good he is. If he can get to Shanghai in three days, we can safely say he's worth watching." She combed her fingers through her hair, splitting it into three sections and starting to braid it.

Clint's hand caught hers and gently pulled it away from her hair. "Leave it."

She looked up at him curiously, and Clint grinned. "Come on, Erian. We're on vacation, at least for three days. Leave your Ghostmaker behind, and let's go find something fun to do."

Erian smiled, feeling the tight knot of worry and doubt in her mind ease and slowly begin to unravel. "You're right. And I don't want to think about anything serious for three days. Got any good ideas?"

Clint hooked his arm through hers and steered her down the corridor. "Well, I hear this place is famous for its chocolate. And I know this little shop downtown . . ."

She laughed. "Too bad there's not a partner of the year award. I know exactly who would win it."

He grinned back. "This year, and every year."

Erian elbowed him, Clint made a big show of pretending it actually hurt, and they walked together down the hall in search of sunshine and chocolate – her idea of a perfect vacation.


	16. Shanghai - Ireland

**Hello, all. First and foremost, let me deeply and sincerely apologize for leaving you all hanging for - has it really been months? Oops. Sorry. I've been insanely busy. I'm working as a lifeguard, doing swim team, and just finished summer league softball. My only excuse is that even authors need to sleep.**

**Having said that:**

**This chapter might be a bit rough and a bit choppy, but rest assured I am already working on the next one. Plot arcs are complicated.**

**If you're still following this story, I owe you a gigantic debt of gratitude, and thank you for waiting for me to get my schedule straightened out.**

**Please enjoy! (And don't murder me for taking so long to update!)**

**K.S.**

Shanghai

Erian had never been to Shanghai before, and she was beginning to wonder if being there now was such a brilliant idea. It hadn't occurred to her when she'd set up the meeting, but for the Shinobi, Shanghai was the closest thing he had to home turf.

He had told her that once, when they had almost been friends. Maybe Erian's subconcious knew more than she did.

Clint said softly, "You all right?" and she nodded, turning her head to look at her partner standing beside her.

"Yeah," Erian replied. "I'm fine. Just . . . remembering."

He smiled a little, but she though there was something missing from the expression. Just how worried _was _Clint about picking up Jaxxon?

"Remembering?" he asked, maybe a little too casually. "Were the two of you ever. . . ?"

_That's _what he was worried about? Erian made a face. "No. _Hell _no. We could have been friends, maybe, but he doublecrossed me on a job. I almost killed him."

Clint raised his eyebrows. "Why didn't you?" There was no challenge in his tone, only curiosity, and Erian wrinkled her nose.

"I was going to. Turned out he had an escape route planned out. Crazy idiot jumped off a roof."

"What's wrong with jumping off roofs?"

She smiled when Clint pretended to be offended, and she elbowed him gently. "Only Hawkeye is allowed to jump off roofs," Erian replied.

Clint smiled back. "Well, that's all right, then."

Erian linked her hands together and stretched her arms over her head, looking around with a sigh. Even in a rice paddy ten miles outside Shanghai, the city lights lit up the night sky, rendering the stars invisible. She glanced over her shoulder at the jet behind them, and asked, "What time is it?"

Clint glanced at his watch. "22:58. He isn't late, but he's pushing it."

Her mouth twisted to the side. "He always did like to make an entrance."

"You know me so well." A shape faded out of nothing to become Lee Jaxxon, calmly walking toward them in a very non-threatening manner. Erian felt Clint go tense, and then deliberately relax. She couldn't deny that her first instinct was to bury a knife between the Shinobi's eyes and call it a night.

Instead she watched him approach and said, "I was beginning to think you weren't coming."

Jaxxon smiled. "I've changed since you knew me last, Ghostmaker. I keep my word."

"That's a nice change," Erian said crisply. Ignoring every instinct in her body, she forced herself to turn her back on Jaxxon so she could walk into the jet. It drove her crazy to know he was behind her and be unable to watch his every move – but Erian was absolutely determined to show no sign of weakness, so she was putting on a display of confidence.

And it helped to have Clint walking next to her. With her partner beside her, Erian was untouchable.

Just inside the jet's ramp, she turned to look back at Jaxxon and asked, "Coming?"

Those dark green eyes never left her face as Jaxxon slowly boarded the jet. Standing in front of Erian, he said quietly, "Thank you for doing this – both of you."

"Don't thank us yet," Clint said enigmatically, and Erian fought back a smile. He really had the mysterious semi-threatening thing _handled._

"Buckle up," she said. "It's a long flight."

It was a _very _long flight, made more so by the unfamiliar awkwardness of a third person in Erian's exclusive world. She sat next to Clint, across from Jaxxon. The pilot glanced back at her once, and she nodded, a simple signal that everything was proceeding as planned. Erian watched as Jaxxon examined his surroundings with mild curiosity – and then he closed his eyes, tipped his head back, and began taking slow, deep breaths.

_Meditating. He never used to do that. Maybe he has changed. _She glanced over at Clint, who shrugged at her and pulled a worn paperback out from under his seat, flipping pages until he found his place. Erian looked down at her hands for a moment, and then pulled a sharpening stone out of a pouch on her belt and started working on her knives.

It was routine maintenance, not meant as a threatening gesture, but if Jaxxon wanted to interpret it as a reminder to stay in line, that was fine with her. Erian was certain that, meditating or not, the Shinobi was well aware of every move she made.

_That's just how you live the life, how you work the business. But he wants out. Just like I did._

_ I know how to kill. I know how to fight. But now I have to learn how to save._

_ What the hell have I gotten myself into?_

* * *

SHIELD Auxiliary Base – Ireland

"Interesting," Jaxxon said, studying the rather small command center of the base that Erian had decided to occupy for the time being. "I always thought SHIELD was a major player in the game, but this place looks like pretty small stakes."

Before Erian had the chance to remind herself that Jaxxon was most likely trying to bait her into giving away something important, Clint said easily, "Did you really think we'd show you every trick in our deck on the first day?"

Jaxxon grinned. "Good point. I fold. The hand is yours."

Erian frowned. She hated poker. "Come on," she said, "I'll show you to your quarters."

Jaxxon and Clint followed her silently as Erian stalked through the corridors. The members of the base staff had been warned that the advanced agents – Clint and Erian – were running something dangerous, and every uniformed worker she saw got out of the way without saying a word.

When she reached the door to the quarters she'd cleared for Jaxxon, she handed the man a key card and said simply, "The cafeteria is in the wing opposite this one. Breakfast starts at 0500 hours."

Jaxxon raised an eyebrow slightly for a reason Erian couldn't quite determine, took the key, and said, "Thanks. I'll see you in the morning, then."

The muscles in her jaw tightened, and she walked away, not sure she liked how comfortable Jaxxon obviously felt in the base. Clint had to run a few steps to catch up to her.

"Hey!" he said, and she bit her lip, turning to look at him.

"Erian," Clint said gently, "I know you're stressed. I know you don't really want Jaxxon here. But if we're going to give him a chance – a _real _chance – don't you think you should try to relax and be normal, instead of all Freddy Kruger?"

She blinked. "You're comparing me to a horror movie villain?"

He smiled. "You know you earned that one."

Erian had to laugh a little, shaking her head. "All right. I'll try. We can work on it tomorrow. Right now, I just want to sleep for a while."

"No problem. We've crossed way too many time zones today – or was it yesterday?"

"You're such a comedian," she yawned, and Clint wrapped his arm around her shoulders, hugging her into him.

"I've got your back," he promised, and she smiled.

"I know. And that's the only reason I'm doing this."

**Don't we all just love plot symmetry. Actually, it gives me a headache. Anyway, please review. Questions, comments, and adoration greatly appreciated - death threats returned to sender.**

**K.S.**


	17. Ireland - 1

**Hello, all. I'm back, and within a reasonable time period, too. Imagine that! I'm quite proud of myself for these two chapters. It was originally all going to be one chapter, but then I took a look at the word count and my eyes bugged out of my head, so I split it into two chapters.**

**I would like to offer my thanks to my someone with blue eyes for nagging at me until I kept writing. Sometimes I just need to be guilted into writing.**

**Enjoy!**

**K.S.**

Ireland

Erian's eyes widened in shock, her jaw going slack. Her gaze fixed on the table in front of her, she managed to say, "Jaxxon – is _that_ what you're eating for breakfast?"

The Shinobi paused, fork halfway to his mouth, and tilted his head to the side. "Um. Is this a trick question? Yes, this is my breakfast. What's wrong with it?"

She shook her head and set her tray down on the table, sitting down next to Clint, who was calmly eating his own breakfast. "Well, everything," Erian replied. "You have three fake waffles in cheap syrup, two cardboard toaster pastries, and – are those Root Beer Barrels?"

Jaxxon nodded, tossing one of the small soda-flavored candies in the air and catching it in his mouth. "Yeah. They looked good."

Clint glanced sideways at Erian and asked, "What's with the nutritional analysis? You're not always such a healthy eater yourself, Miss Peppermint Candies."

She shook her head again, frowning. "It's not that. It's just – how can you stand to eat all of that garbage with a perfectly good cup of green tea?"

Clint burst out laughing, and Jaxxon glanced back and forth between them, the cockiness that so annoyed Erian nowhere to be found. The change surprised her. _Maybe we've both dropped an act. Maybe we're both trying to really be who we are, trying to make it work without pretending. _

His green eyes puzzled, Jaxxon looked at Clint and asked slowly, "Did I miss something here?"

Erian ducked her head and started eating while Clint explained, "No, you'd just have to know Erian. She doesn't care about whether or not you eat that stuff. She thinks you're wasting the tea by drinking it with junk food."

A slow grin spread across Jaxxon's face, and Erian muttered something that might have included the words, "no culture," and, "get you for this, Clint." Jaxxon shook his head and laughed, then asked, "So are you two together, or what?"

There was a pause.

Very slowly, Erian and Clint raised their heads and fixed Jaxxon with a dual stare that might have given a lesser man a heart attack.

_Yes, we are . . ._ together._ No, it is nowhere near being your business._

Jaxxon blinked once, and then said, "Never mind. Forget I asked."

Breakfast continued in total silence.

Erian was savoring the last of her raspberry tea, and Clint was finishing his toast. Jaxxon was tossing Root Beer Barrels into the air and catching them in his mouth while staring up at the ceiling thoughtfully. Erian was beginning to be irritated by the repetitive crunching sounds of the hard candies when Jaxxon said thoughtfully, "If you were a candy, what would you be?"

"Hershey's Special Dark," Clint replied immediately, while Erian was still blinking in surprise. "Average quality chocolate with a deep flavor, but not bitter."

"You've thought about this?" Erian said incredulously.

Clint nodded. "Of course. What about you?" he asked Jaxxon.

The Shinobi grinned. "Sour Skittles. Annoying, yet irresistible."

Erian snorted and Jaxxon squinted his eyes at her. "What's yours, Ghostmaker?"

She hesitated. _Give him a chance, sure. That's been working all right, although I don't know what this thing is with candy. Let him call me by my name – no, not yet. Ghostmaker is fine. _"I don't know. Chili pepper truffle?"

Clint grinned and hugged her sideways against him. "Hardly. You, Erian, are a Miniature Heath Bar."

Jaxxon tilted his head to the side and studied her thoughtfully, chewing on a Root Beer Barrel. Erian said indignantly, "Miniature? Why am I a miniature?"

"Because," Clint said promptly, "If you were a full sized Heath Bar, the world would not be able to handle so much Erian, and we'd have another Apocalypse to deal with."

Erian crinkled up her nose to hide her smile. She wasn't sure if she'd just been complimented or insulted, but she didn't mind. _It's like . . . like talking to Jaxxon has brought out a different side of Clint, one I barely ever see. _

_ It's probably just a guy thing._

Jaxxon, frowning slightly, said, "Another – that's right. You were in New York. It was in the news all over the world." He leaned forward slightly, and asked, "What was it like?"

Erian bit her lip, and glanced at Clint, who said simply, "We don't talk about it."

Jaxxon opened his mouth to say something else, but Erian cut him off by standing up and picking up her empty tray. "Come on, Clint. I want to spar."


	18. Ireland - 2

**Ok, next chapter. I might be gone for a week or two after this, because I get to do some fun college classes - eek! - and also my job is about to get really busy. But I promise to keep writing. Be sure to tell me what you think, the review button is really easy to find.**

**Enjoy!**

**K.S.**

Erian missed the Helicarrier. She had never thought she'd grown attached to the place, but the little auxiliary base in Ireland just wasn't the same. Especially the gym. In the Helicarrier, the gym was big enough to allow privacy. In the gym where she was currently standing, everyone could see and hear everyone else without even trying.

She didn't like to spar with an audience. But she had a lot of pent-up stress to work out, and also an ulterior motive. So Erian taped her hands and stretched out her muscles, watching Clint mirror her routine as Jaxxon leaned on the wall and surveyed the gym space.

Sparring with Clint was an easy dance for Erian, never the same but always familiar, like meditating in motion. Her hands moved, his hands blocked, one of them ducked as the other struck, one lunged forward and the other dived away. It was simple, effortless, and invigorating. Erian breathed deep and tried to pretend she couldn't feel the eyes on her.

It wasn't working. She caught glimpses of other people in the gym, agents or just staff, none of them obviously stopping to stare, but all watching. Just a turn of the head, just a quick look away – Erian felt them watching.

Felt their fear. And it wasn't Jaxxon, the stranger, that they were afraid of.

_What do these people see when they look at me? Am I really such a monster that the very people I work with, the people I fight to protect, are so terrified of me? What have I done to deserve such fear?_

_ Everything. I have done everything. I have murdered innocence. I have slaughtered hope, destroyed courage. But I have also rescued frightened children, brought down men whose evil would have killed hundreds, even thousands eventually._

_ But they don't know that._

_ All they see are my knives, and all they feel is my cold shadow. I'm the nightmare that lives right beside them. They've been told I fight for them, but that's not the only story they hear._

Whirling away from Clint's flying hands, Erian caught sight of Jaxxon watching her with a wistful green stare, and something occurred to her that made her stumble, made her block clumsy and slow.

_ Maybe I'm not the only monster here. Maybe Jaxxon is where I was – where you just want someone to look at you and see a person instead of a nightmare._

Erian put up her hands and backed away from Clint, who wasn't even breathing hard. _Not that I am – but whatever he thinks about when we spar, it certainly seems to be more peaceful than my thoughts._ She said simply, "That's enough," then turned to Jaxxon.

"Your turn."

He raised his eyebrows at her. "You sure?"

Erian grinned. Maybe it was just the endorphins from the exercise, maybe it was the thrill of doing something stupid – but she felt invincible, regardless of how many people were watching. "Come on, Jaxxon. Let's dance."

His smile was slow and lazy, and should have warned her, but she was too eager to fight, too ready to prove that she was finally able to take him down – too ready. Much too ready.

Jaxxon's first move was quick, much quicker than she'd expected, and Erian barely dodged the punch, whirling away from the following kick. She tried to grab his ankle, but was forced to bob her head down to avoid getting her face smashed in.

_Okay. He's gotten better. I think he's mastered another martial art form. He was always into the whole ninja thing._

_ Good thing I was always into being a straight-up American scrapper._

Erian ducked under another strike, seizing Jaxxon's elbow and twisting, forcing him to move to avoid having a bone broken. She hooked a foot around his ankle and dropped Jaxxon to the mat.

She had intended to lean over and lightly press her foot against his throat, making a point that the match was over – but he caught her ankle and flipped her onto her back on the ground. Erian couldn't match Jaxxon's speed in regaining his feet, but she could definitely catch a handful of the back of his shirt and let him pull her up onto her feet as well.

He hadn't expected that, Erian could read surprise on his face. She feinted, then feinted a reaction to his reaction, then stopped thinking entirely and just danced. She couldn't track the movements, but she could react, and Erian fought as though in a trance.

She regained her senses when Jaxxon's hand caught her in the face. Erian blinked away the flash of light that always came with a head impact, and repaid his hesitation with a fist in his throat. Jaxxon choked, and Erian calmly knocked him face-down on the mat, putting her knee in his back and setting her hands so that she could snap his neck if she felt like it.

The silence caught her attention as Jaxxon drew in a deep breath, and Erian glanced around to see the entire gym still and watchful, every person in the room staring straight at her. She exhaled shakily, wondering at the power of all those gazes – at the _fear _in those faces.

_I'm not a monster. I'm not. I'm – _

_ Am I?_

"Erian." It was Clint, quiet and firm. "I think you're done."

She nodded slowly, and stood up, releasing Jaxxon, who stood as well, shaking out his arms and stretching the muscles in his neck. Erian watched Jaxxon with cold eyes, withdrawn into her own mind.

_I was ready to kill him. I didn't see him, not really. Not a person, not a name or a face. Just – anger. Hate. Fear. I was going to kill the reason that everyone is afraid of me._

_ That would have worked well, wouldn't it?_

Jaxxon turned to face her, and smiled elegantly. Erian felt her skin prickle. _That smile is fake. What's he doing?_

"Nice round," he said sincerely. "You got me good."

She smiled back, fake as plastic, and replied, "It was a good workout."

And just like that, the eerie stillness in the room collapsed into the noise of movement once again. Jaxxon gave her a small nod, and Erian stared back at him silently.

_We understand one another, then. I know he released the fear in the room, made everyone think it was just practice. And he knows that I know that he let me win. If he hadn't faltered after that one punch –_

She didn't want to think about that. It brought back bad memories.

Clint's hand on her shoulder spooked her, and Erian turned her head to see him frowning at her. "You're bleeding," he said softly, and Erian touched a hand to her face to see it come away with red on her fingers.

"Oh. I didn't . . . I didn't notice."

"Sorry," Jaxxon said, hunching his shoulders in a way that made him look embarrassed. "I didn't mean to break skin."

_Right. That punch. My nose is probably bleeding. _"It's all right. I'll handle it. It's nothing, really." Erian smiled at Clint and walked away, out of the gym and down the hall, breaking into a run until she finally sprinted into her rooms.

She banged through the door into the bathroom, leaning hard on the sink and resting her forehead against the mirror as she gasped for breath. Erian stared down at her shaking hands and wondered.

_Would I have killed him, really? I think I would have. I think I was going to._

_ He could have killed me. Easily. He's better than I remember._

_ He's still better than I am. Just like he was before. I couldn't have killed him then._

_ He was willing to let me kill him this time._

Erian took a deep breath, and reached for a washcloth, picking up her head and wiping blood off her face. She'd probably bled on the mirror, but she could clean that up.

_He was willing to let me kill him. That's . . . that's the lowest you can go. I know. I've been there. When you want out so badly that you're willing to die to end it . . . _

_ It's serious. It's real. Jaxxon wants to change._

_ But can I make myself let him?_

Erian stared into the mirror, and her reflection gazed back from under a dripping stain of blood.

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